the fine art of not sleeping

16 Oct 07 Tuesday 3:16 AM


If I were you, I wouldn't read this. It's gonna be boring and most likely put you to sleep. Which is kinda ironic, because...welllll....

Quite simply, I can't sleep when I get sick. I can't sleep other times as well, but let's just focus on the issue at hand. Medication does nothing for me. Nyquil? Forget it. I'll sleep hard for about 2 hours and then wake up throughout the night disoriented and high. Most medications have the complete opposite effect on me. If it says non-drowsy, most likely I'll be wired for about an hour and then completely crash. If it says "so you can rest" medicine, well, you get the picture.

I've found the best thing for me to do is to read/research or write. So, here I sit. 3:30am, a cup of herbal sleep tea steeping and 2 dogs by my side. Here are some of the things I'm looking at, thinking about or researching as I await the effects of my sleep tea:

We pretty much all know chamomile is used as a relaxant, but had you ever heard of skullcap?

From the Encyclopedia of Alternative Medicine:
Skullcap (Scutellaria lateriflora) is currently known best as a herbal sedative. By reducing tension, skullcap may contribute to lower blood pressure. Skullcap is also used as a remedy for exhaustion, convulsions, menstrual cramps, and as a treatment for withdrawal from alcohol and tobacco. The herb may be taken as a bitter tonic to boost digestion. Skullcap is also sometimes used as a remedy for hiccups, hangovers, and asthma.

Also, if you haven't stopped reading by now, I had yet another friend tell me today he's moving to the East Coast (specifically, NYC). Is all of Nashville moving to the East Coast? I mean, I'm happy for you all. I'm very supportive. But envy, she's getting the best of me. I love Nashville, please don't get me wrong. However, the idea of moving is something I think about pretty frequently. I am constantly looking at job openings on professional design websites (most openings are in Chicago, NYC, Atlanta -no thanks, Dallas, TX -no thanks). Granted, starting salaries for openings where I meet the prerequisite experience is pretty menial (at best). With that being said, it's the same case if I took a design job here in Nashville.

What else...? Yeah, I feel like all the articles and news I'm reading are definitely pointing to some type of recession. If not a full blown recession, we're at least on the edge of a serious financial slow down and this gal's worried.

Anyway, despite my pessimism, I'm optimistic? yeah, I didn't think it made much sense either, but it's the truth.

To bed with me where I shall listen to music and attempt to allow slumber to have her way with me.

**disclaimer** any typos or grammatical errors are the fault of the skullcap and not a fair representation of the writer.

ps. still not in bed. Decided to read about Marquise Casati instead.

How much for this one, no, this one right here?

15 Sep 07 Saturday 3:38 PM

You know, you're not allowed to just come in and rummage around whenever you want to. It's not like an antique mall where you can pick up all the old memories and then try to rearrange their placement, putting the forgotten ones back out onto the front shelves where they might get broken again. They were hidden in the back with good reason.

if you knew my story word for word....

continuation of a texting conversation that you aren't privy to:

That's the way it goes though. Who doesn't want to feel like they are the only one? Who doesn't want to feel like you haven't been here with anyone else before. But it just gets more difficult with age. Unfortunately, what they can't see, is how they have never and you have never been there with them (or them with you) before. It's the most trying part of having a past, isn't it? The double edged sword. Had you never been in love or been infatuated prior...had you (or they) never felt love...it wouldn't mean the same to you (or to them).

I think I've lost my footing

26 Jul 07 Thursday 1:26 AM


It's all so very complicated, isn't it? And so you ask me. Your friend: the one who is willing to listen, is willing to give the advice, the one who will even tell you if you are so very wrong. But you know what happens? What happens is she cultivates friendships, she cultivates others relationships that somehow become everything. And then she wakes up wondering if she's the one left with nothing.

I have a friend, a very dear friend, who reminds me from time to time that I have no one to answer to. I have me, and me alone. The idea might be so beautiful if only I had more. It's the quest we're all on, really. The quest for something more than just us. The idea of something greater. And I've started to realize, who am I to limit myself to what this life currently has to offer? I explore (I really do), I question (more than you'll know), I watch (you've seen me), and yet I'm still left with nothing more than this: we are what we make of ourselves and unless we move forward and explore all that life has to offer; who are we, really?

Someone I really care about told me several years ago they could see me opening a door. The door, after years of movement, isn't just one, but a maze of doors. There are no right or wrong choices, only passages leading me back and forth through a maze of growth. Lately I wonder if I've come to a dead end only to discover now I must turn back. Tracing back through my footsteps with no one but myself to guide me. This step, that stumble, all the awkwardness. I think, is this as difficult for everyone else? Or am I the only one?

She.

You know, She's about had it. She doesn't believe in love anymore. This one, this girl, this Woman, believes that She is meant to be alone for the rest of her life. And its not exactly because a palm reader told her true love wouldn't occur until "late in life". It's because it doesn't appear to her that anyone gets her. In spite of everything, in spite of all her guy friends saying, you are so fantastic, you are so very wonderful, you are such a gift! ; in spite of everything, She realizes She is not for this time. She is not for this place. And so, She wishes to sleep away her entire life. She wishes to sleep away - not this entire month, not this entire year, but to sleep away her entire life to just not have to feel. To not have to feel at all, is a Godsend. If God was merciful, it wouldn't be asked of her. If God believed in her, it wouldn't have to be. The pain, the suffering, the hope...the if only. She is so very tired.

higher education? try, roadblock.

You know how for the last 4 years I have been all about school? And you know how I took the summer off and have been completely bored for the last several months? And you know how I thought I'd be in school for only a year longer? Well, I might be in school for another 2-3 years instead of the 1 year I thought. And you know why? Because I made A LOT of money last year, that's why. According to the government, my salary of $barelyscrapingby.00 equates to me being able to afford an extra $4200 (per semester) on my education (out of pocket) this year. And you know who doesn't have $4200 per semester to pay for school this year? I think you know where I'm going with this.

I really want my degree and eventually want my masters degree, but at this rate, I'll be a freakin' granny by the time I finish. I know all the "life is a learning experience" shit people throw at me, and I know all the "you shouldn't worry and be in such a hurry" jargin. But, I'll tell ya, this lady is tired. I want to finish. I want to be able to move forward and continue my real life sans school . However, it seems so much is working against me. I love school. Please, don't get me wrong. But I also want to be able to picture next year with a real vacation thrown in the mix. I want to be able to see myself actually enjoying all that I have learned. I want to see some real implementation and forward motion.

Bah. ugh. ick.

oh how I hate to admit that I've been looking at you...

Current mood: hot

For my ladies (you men can read if you want, but it's all pink and frilly with lust and flirting):

"Pink Champagne" makes me pretty damn happy. Optimistic about love for once. It reminds me of that first time you see someone you think is so very interesting and maybe a tad out of your league. That one guy, who walks by and all your girlfriends, despite different tastes in men, all turn to watch him. Man, do we need one those around East Nashville*. It reminds me of stolen glances, lust, heaving heart palpitations, flirty smiles, hands brushing accidentally, unfeigned innocence. Crushes. Love the old fashioned crush. Yummy. Most gals do. We crave them more than chocolate.

My ladies and I will be out this weekend. I'd suggest, if you live in this town, that you attempt a "walk by" my ladies and I. One of us might possibly be looking for a new crush or 2. I'm not saying me, I'm not saying anyone in particular. Maybe this heat is starting to get to me. Or maybe I just think it's time the tables were turned. Summer is typically a time of women dressed in almost nothing sweating in the summer heat....I'm saying it's time for men to be objectified. That's right. I'm talkin' catcalls to the men in this town. Shout it out ladies, shout it out.


With that being said. What's wrong with this town lately. It's been kinda boring. I'm just sayin'.

*my apologies to my male friends....you are all so very hot and delicious in your own individual ways.

step away from your computer...cont...

Last night I was reminded of an article I read on the nytimes about the found diary of a young Jewish girl during the depression. It was beautifully written and detailed her thoughts, her dreams, her sexual adventures both male and female (scandalous!), and some of her daily mundane habits. Quite simply, it was a peek inside the life of a woman and a life long forgotten.

My girlfriend, Camille, has some of her grandmother's diarys and she told me about some of the entries last night. It made me really think about how much has been lost now that everything we do is done so in a digital world. We blog online (guilty), we seldom have actual photos developed, we communicate via email. It made me wonder what we will leave behind for our grandchildren to discover? I, for one, realized the other night that I have over 100 posts on myspace alone. This doesn't even count the secret online diary I kept for a few years prior to myspace. Eventually, where will all of those thoughts go? Do I print them all out and save them for my children to find and read? Or do I allow them to disappear into the digital oblivion? I make an attempt to send letters here and there. I definitely write hand written thank you notes. I have a paper diary I keep within arms reach of my bed (sometimes I wake up with it tucked in the bed next to me).

The online journal/diary/blog isn't the only problem. When was the last time you took actual photographs and had them developed? When was the last time you didn't delete a "bad" photo from your camera? Camille pointed out some of her favorite photos are the ones from her childhood where she didn't even know the photo was being taken. Candid photos used to be a way of life and now everything is so very perfectly posed and if it's not, its deleted immediately. We have unknowingly enacted the law of photo veto! I recently read of a mobile phone with a camera focus designed specifically for women because women take the most self portraits. Wow.

And let's not even get started on music! I don't know about you, but I like to actually own a record. I actually enjoy reading the liner notes. I enjoy my iPod. I do. But I also like to thumb through records at Grimey's or Great Escape. I love the smell. I love the feel. I love the process of discovery! Unfortunately I haven't been able to do this for a while, but I am committed to get myself back in the groove, so to speak. (Well, once Jill gets my record player hooked up to the receiver).

Look. All I'm saying here is to think about what we're leaving behind. And from the looks of it, the majority of us aren't leaving shit.

I challenge you all:
-Pull out your old school writing utensils. Grab a sheet of paper. Write down some of your thoughts. Mail them, tuck them in a drawer, whatever.
-Go buy some actual film. You know, the kind you have to actually put in the camera. Take some photos. You know, the kind you can't delete immediately because you don't like how fat your face looks.
-Hook up your record player. Listen to something besides what's coming out of your computer or iPod. Can you hear the difference?
-Make a phone call. Or better yet, go visit someone on their front porch. (Our porch is always open for a visit.) Have an actual conversation. It's lovely, isn't it?

I'm not perfect. But I'm going to start doing my part. I hope you do the same.


I love my people.

ps. at least the digital world hasn't completely taken over literature. ah, books. How I love thee.

Waitin' Round to Die....

So. I suffer from depression. Don't we all? I'm beginning to think so. Sometimes I wonder how much of it is actually real and how much is all in my head. (pun intended). How much is chemical and how much of chemical is reality? Right?

I'm having a hard time lately. Seems not much is going right. Right?

And I grasp on to what my friends and my sweet, sweet Mom tell me:

"It shall pass"
"It will get better, it has to"
"No matter how poor you are, there's always soup" (from my Granny)
etc, etc.

And yet sometimes I seclude myself to my bed. My bed will make it all better.
And I think, if only I could smoke in my bed (inner dialogue, but what if I fell asleep with a cigarette burning? Do i want to be a 60's/70's cliche'?) If only my 2 addictions could become one (who am I kidding, my 3, let's include alcohol).
Alone. In bed. Smoke filling my room.

And other times that might just make it worse.

So. I go out.
Into the masses.
Fake smile.
Dosing myself with $3.00 Miller Lite drafts.
Beer (I can't afford)
Smiles (that don't come naturally)
and music.
Isn't there always music?
But it reminds me...I'm not crazy. They always remind me:

This.

Has.

Been.

Felt.

Before.

We all feel SO MUCH. (don't we?)

And then tonight, on my porch, my girls remind me that we're not in this alone. We will always (hopefully) have someone who knows what. Who can sense everything, without me or you saying a word.

And you remember, its all background. It's all where you came from and where you're going.

And we all (hopefully) can hold onto- THIS.

Just keep holding on.

and just then the sky opened up, illuminating everything.

When the skies turn gray and tumultuous,
as they have today,
I miss you.
Not because I know,
together,
we would be just as turbulent,
but because I know what could exist in between
would be the something beautiful I crave.

We don't exist here.
We never did.

But given time,
given stories shared,
given quiet moments during the pre-dawn hours,
given all these things and so much more,
we would be better than any storm
or the calm which comes before.

easy

You made it easy for me to walk away.

I didn't want it
or you
or anything you had to say.

And I know why.
And you know how.

You made it easy for me to walk away.

Do they have a reason?

Stolen from Mr. Hubbard.
I like this.


DO THEY HAVE A REASON
by Stephen Dobyns

Life begins, you make some friends,
what futures you plan for one another.
No failures here, no one sent to prison.
When you first start out, you can't imagine
you won't succeed, even if the road's unclear,
your parents call you dumb and your brother
pulls your ears; somehow you'll make it work,
even if what you want is to rob a bank,
to be a first-rate crook, but mostly we start out
idealistic--doctors, astrophysicists--or perhaps
we have a taste for fame and money--actors,
stockbrokers--but always something at the top
and always several: Maybe I'll be this or that,
we say. And mostly our friends encourage us
just so we'll encourage them. Sure you'll be
a surgeon, they say, you got the hands. So we
loll about the riverbank with our first cigar
and watch the ducks float by. It's summer
and third grade is dead forever. We lean back
on our elbows and blow some smoke. I'll be
an astronaut, you say, and own a fleet of trucks.
You bet, says your cousin, and I'll play ball.
And he's the guy who dies a drunk at thirty-five.
Think of the moment when you at last catch on.
Some kids get it right away, others not so quick.
One day you experience a click in your head
as the world turns from one place to another.
Does the sky change color, the river get colder?
Like when you stroll into a local diner after school
for a Coke and a hot pretzel, a place you visit
every day to meet your pals, but today your pals
are having fun someplace else and there instead
are half a dozen kids you've never seen before:
sixth graders for certain. They snatch your pack,
toss your stuff around, one tears your shirt,
another rips your books. What's their reason?
They don't need a reason. When the world
you loved is changed for another, it's like that.

Interior Design

On Thursday, March 22, The Washington Post and newspapers around the country ran an article by conservative opinion columnist George Will critical of interior designers and interior design legislation. Below is a link to the article as well as the American Society of Interior Designers response.

Washington Post Article


As a student who has spent the last 4 years of my life working full time and putting myself through school, this article has me incensed. Unfortunately, the general public has little to no understanding of what it actually takes to become a licensed interior designer. Unfortunately, even some of my closer acquaintances think all I do is move furniture around and/or pick paint colors. Yes, I do pick paint colors (which I'll have you know is more involved than just "liking" the color but that's a different subject all together). I do select furnishings and textiles. However, I am also trained in building construction, fire and building codes, and Auto CAD (Computer Aided Drafting) as well as the fine art of hand drafting.

I try not to take "decorator" jokes seriously, I try not to find offense when a decorator shops in my store presenting themselves as an interior designer. Sometimes, it's terribly difficult to just grin and bear it. I have and continuously work hard at my profession. It is a profession I love and respect. It is a profession requiring constant research and learning. It is a profession that holds itself up to a high standard. It is a profession that, I feel, deserves the right to require legislation to uphold the title Interior Designer in order to maintain these high standards. And while I do feel the law in Nevada is a bit extreme : "...it is illegal -- unless you are licensed, or employed by someone licensed -- to move, in the role of an interior designer, any piece of furniture, such as an armoire, that is more than 69 inches tall."
I also find it somewhat necessary to start somewhere.

happiness?

Everyone deserves to be happy. I believe this to my core. Even the asshole who broke your/my heart, even the old man who has been homeless for 27 years who inadvertently gets a little spittle on your face as he asks you for change to buy a beer. Unfortunately, we are a society of one of two distinct types: those who see happiness and say, "awww" and those who see it and say, "for fucks sake". Depending on the day, I fall into either category (as do most of us?) What makes our emotions so fleeting, what makes us love and "hate" love at the same time?
Let's talk PDA, let's talk spring...It seems to me, and I may be wrong, but it seems to me that everyone is coupling. It appears everyone is affected by the new beginnings happening in nature, new beginnings occurring all over our little town. You get to a point where you start to evaluate who you are, what you believe about love, and what you want. And then, inevitably, why is it not happening for me? The bottom line, the end all be all, the most important, ME.
The more I think about it, the more I equate the whole thing to being a non-smoker in a bar full of smokers. You want it badly but you question the outcome. It's bad for me, right? It will only hurt me in the long run, right? 9 times out of 10 the feeling is short lived. 9 times out of 10 the feeling doesn't really last. And still, we crave it. We want it so badly we might just do anything to feel it coursing through our veins. Is it pessimism driving my thoughts? Or is it human nature to believe once we have been hurt, what's the point? In the end, I just chalk it up to human nature. It's all human nature. And yet I wonder, should I take it, or leave it?

on a good note.

I left the bar just now on a good note..The Cure was playing on the jukebox and I'm all for the Cure playing whenever it can be played. I said my goodbyes, hopped in the ole' Volvo where the end of a little Bee Gee's "Jive Talkin'" is on the radio. No problems, just driving, driving straight. Then suddenly*, end of song. Eff. No. No. Effing. Way. Some bullshit song comes on. I change the station, I change it again. NOTHING on. I switch back (umm, accidentally). I don't know the name of it, I don't know who sings it, but now all I can hear in my head is: "don't turn about, don't think about, turn your head, now baby, just let me out". (Is this right? I don't know the damn song???) I pull into my driveway, hop on the computer, and turn on my iTunes. Try to wash it all away. NONSENSICAL LYRICS STILL THERE! SOMEONE HELP ME.

Actually, it's gone now. No big deal. The Beatles, "Octopus' Garden" has taken over. Speaking of the Beatles, I have decided to document conversations I have enjoyed whilst out and about. (note: whilst = swilling beers, just an fyi.)

This eve, we discussed many topics, some only for the ears of myself and possibly one other person. Others, not so much. One noteworthy topic: Tom Dowd (and now Bibel Gilberto's "Baby" is playing). According to some sources, he "popularized" the use of the 8 track recording system. According to other sources, he invented it.
Note to self: I need to watch "The Language of Music". Why is this noteworthy to moi? I find the entire creative process so very interesting. I know the idea of "discovering" a process is random. I know the idea of actually creating something new is quite subjective. We talked about how The Beatles have claimed (Paul McCartney) to actually have invented the music video. Interesting topic, however completely insanely boastful the subject might be. I saw "John Lennon's Jukebox" a few years ago several times. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since. It's a fantastic documentary about the discovery of John Lennon's portable jukebox. According to the documentary, he traveled with this jukebox for quite a while. After his death, I think around the early 90's, they found his personal jukebox. Kind of like finding someone's iPod, but much more interesting. The people who discovered it delved into the music contained therein. Can you imagine??? They took the jukebox and traveled around with it and met with the musicians John Lennon loved. Interestingly enough, so much on the jukebox inspired the music John wrote. If memory serves, quite a bit of it was Motown (big surprise). If you don't know about this PBS documentary, I seriously think you should check it out. So very inspiring.

Ray Lamontagne "Be Here Now" comes on. And, so now, I must end on a good note. To bed where I will continue to listen to some lovely Mr. Lamontagne.

drivel, drivel, drivel.
-m

*ode to camille

spring break...woo hoo?

My spring break is over. A few highlights...

I got a haircut and color. Carmen is a genius and I love her. I feel like a new woman.

I went out almost every night. The drinking part wasn't the best, it was feeling like I could relax and completely enjoy myself with my good friends.
Had a little slumber party with some friends on St. Patrick's Day. Notable: tumors, instructional dvd's, a nice fire, good conversations, laughter and general silliness.

I spent Friday at the Frist. What a great day.
The Matisse/Picasso exhibit was fine. I know I am supposed to be overjoyed at having such great artwork in our city but I wasn't very impressed with the actual pieces they selected to exhibit. It was worth the $6.50 student price and definitely worth the couple hours I spent there though.

I am not a huge fan of Matisse's paintings, although I do appreciate them. What I do enjoy are his drawings. His ability to edit and to portray his subjects with the fewest lines possible has always impressed me.

The most incredible part of my visit were some video pieces by HIRAKI SAWA. One large piece, "Going Places Sitting Down", was projected onto 3 large screens in the back room of the main gallery downstairs. It honestly felt like walking into a dream. I had a difficult time getting my head back together after watching it as it was simply beautiful and elegant and relaxing…like a good dream should be.

In the upstairs gallery is an exhibit featuring Mexican Printmaking (1920-1950). My favorite pieces were by Diego Rivera (Frida Kahlo's husband). I'll have to go back. After watching Hiraki Sawa's videos, it was difficult to concentrate and all I wanted was have a cigarette and cocktail.
Which I did and I was drunk and home in bed by 10:30.

Spring break. woo hoo.

Go Nashville!

Current mood: optimistic

I attended the Public Workshop on Green Building in Metro Nashville this week with my gal, Allison. Pretty exciting stuff for sure! The city of Nashville has an ordinance up for approval to implement a policy of Green Building for Nashville's government buildings. If you aren't familiar with the idea of sustainable or green building, I have included a few websites at the bottom of this post. The idea of Nashville moving towards a greener philosophy is so very exciting!
Because we, as American's, spend about 90% of our time indoors, the quality of the environment we work, live and shop in is very important. If a building is green, expect 30% energy savings, 35% carbon savings, 30-50% water usage savings, and 50-90% waste cost savings. In a business, these figures add up to enhanced productivity (between 2-16%), reduced absenteeism and improved employee morale. In schools, 20% better test performances. In retail a significant increase in sales. With all this being said, the health benefits are the most important to those of us who aren't business owners. I, for one, would love to work in a green environment. Several other large cities have already implemented Green Building policies and are reaping the benefits.


From the workshop:
The purpose of the Metropolitan Government's policy on sustainable
building is to require the Government's commitment to environmental,
economic, and social stewardship, to yield cost savings to the
Metropolitan Government taxpayers through reduced operating cost
savings to the Metropolitan Government taxpayers through reduced
operating costs, to provide healthy and productive work environments
for staff and visitors, and to contribute to the government's goals of
protecting, conserving, and enhancing the region's environmental
resources. Additionally, the Metropolitan Government shall help to set
a community standard of sustainable building.

16.60.050 Policy and goals.
1. It is the policy of the Metropolitan Government to finance, plan,
design, construct, manage, renovate, maintain, and decommission its
facilities and buildings to be sustainable. This applies to new
construction and renovations, for which the planning and construction
commences on or after August 1, 2007, in which the total project square
footage includes 5,000 gross square feet of occupied space or the total
project cost exceeds two million dollars. For existing buildings or
facilities, this chapter shall only apply to renovations that add 5,000
or more gross square feet of occupied space.
..[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]-->..[endif]-->

If you would like to get involved, join the mailing list at the Nashville Civic Design Center Website:

ummm. hi.

the second the coin hit bottom
the clicking sound of acceptance
anonymity as the ring began
gone are the days of the pay phone call
gone are the days of the crank
of the hang up

did we lose something when technology caught up with us? did the thrill of surprise escape us? or has the mobile phone, computer age and caller ID made us all noticeable, mysteriousness escaping us, leaving us displayed in a connected non-shadow.

i remember as a young girl the thrill of crank calling at a slumber party...boys from school not knowing who we were. slyness cloaking our need to just hear for one second the life of someone we had a crush on, on the other end of the line. talking to boys was fun then. asking them questions, when playing coy was an innocent game but not really a game.
i remember how we thought if we just wore the right outfit, if we just played the right game, they would like us. for maybe just one second the world lifted up, the fluttering began in our stomachs.

now in our adult years, how much has it changed? really. people flock to websites. they think they can put up a front..the about me's; the interests; the music and books to impress...intrigue until you meet, finally over at an innocently expectant drink. then it hits you...how similar it is to being young again. guards are all up, the best photos posted... when in reality it's all just the same.

people want to be liked and they put their best foot forward. when in reality, all we need is a little reality. not watered down. not fantasy. but a good dose of the real us. the real you. and a connection not found in a world made up of zeros and ones.

Floods and signs

Last night I dreamt of floods. Floods took over all of Nashville. The only areas where you could be free and dry of all the water was on the highest overpasses of the highway system. It was one of those dreams where cities from your past present themselves in small unexpected ways. The waters of the Cumberland slowly merging and then mixing with the dirty brown waters of the Houston Brazos river. The two waters coming together in the dream were hesitant at first like two apprehensive hands coming together for a handshake, and then as the force of nature pulled them together, there was no visibly discernible difference between the waters. People grabbed onto table tops, some had boats, others just simply drifted along in a quiet and accepting back stroke/float. There was no panic, no cries. Just a simple acknowledgment of "hey this sucks" and then "well, shit happens". Della Robbia sofas floated by with beautiful textiles browning from the muddy waters, artwork dotted the waters with vibrant colors, and strips of white reflective tape from the highway danced on top of the water breaks.

After having dreams such as these, I wonder the significance. Why did my mind conjure up these images? Floods typically mean "emotional issues and tension". And all I can think is what? me? never.

It's rare to actually have time to sit and think these days. That is, unless the flu takes over your body and you end up in bed for 3 days. Unfortunately, the kind of thinking that occurs is more of the "no one loves me, woe is me" kind of crap. Needless to say, I am still not feeling so very optimistic today. I am beginning to need a sign. A sign I can grab onto in the middle of flood filled streets....a beacon of hope to help guide me back to my usual state of optimism. I guess when you ask for a sign, it doesn't really present itself.

from my past.

Insomniac
by. ms. plath

The night is only a sort of carbon paper,
Blueblack, with the much-poked periods of stars
Letting in the light, peephole after peephole ---
A bonewhite light, like death, behind all things.
Under the eyes of the stars and the moon's rictus
He suffers his desert pillow, sleeplessness
Stretching its fine, irritating sand in all directions.

Over and over the old, granular movie
Exposes embarrassments--the mizzling days
Of childhood and adolescence, sticky with dreams,
Parental faces on tall stalks, alternately stern and tearful,
A garden of buggy rose that made him cry.
His forehead is bumpy as a sack of rocks.
Memories jostle each other for face-room like obsolete film stars.

He is immune to pills: red, purple, blue ---
How they lit the tedium of the protracted evening!
Those sugary planets whose influence won for him
A life baptized in no-life for a while,
And the sweet, drugged waking of a forgetful baby.
Now the pills are worn-out and silly, like classical gods.
Their poppy-sleepy colors do him no good.

His head is a little interior of grey mirrors.
Each gesture flees immediately down an alley
Of diminishing perspectives, and its significance
Drains like water out the hole at the far end.
He lives without privacy in a lidless room,
The bald slots of his eyes stiffened wide-open
On the incessant heat-lightning flicker of situations.

Nightlong, in the granite yard, invisible cats
Have been howling like women, or damaged instruments.
Already he can feel daylight, his white disease,
Creeping up with her hatful of trivial repetitions.
The city is a map of cheerful twitters now,
And everywhere people, eyes mica-silver and blank,
Are riding to work in rows, as if recently brainwashed.

turn up the music, take me over, take me anywhere....

i love...obviously...:
1. my family both immediate (my mom and daddy are fantastic) and the family i have made here in nashville.
2. jill, ollie, leia, richie, elijah, molly, stephanie & charles, cameron, allison....etc, etc.
3. modern design, mid-century modern.
4. modern art.
5. vintage furniture, art, objects.

things you might not have known i love:
1. cooking for friends over many bottles of wine and great conversation.
2. the way flour feels on my hands and between my fingers.
3. picking dead leaves off of house plants.
4. the smell of dirt and soil.
5. watching movies over and over until they are so funny i can't stand it.
6. annabelle sleeping in a curled up ball (i can't believe she can get so small) next to me in bed.
7. the way annabelle gets insanely excited when i say "annabelle, outside?"
8. clean sheets right when i have had a shower and shaved my legs (weird, yes. i know.)
9. good lighting. mostly modern classic pcs, but good overall "lighting" in general. dark and comfortable...not glaring.
10. walnut wood. i love the grain and color.
11. george harrison, frida, marimekko, jonathan adler, angela adams.
12. henna orange, the palest blue, and marine blue/green.
13. coffee on sundays when i have nowhere to go and i can sit and drink as much as i want, as slow as i want with friends coming and going not caring if i am still in my pj's and no makeup.
14. my house almost anytime.
15. being able to remember most of my dreams. reliving them all day the next day. flying in my dreams. lucid dreams.
16. white. pottery, furniture, lighting, dishes...etc, etc.
17. hardware stores. i get so INTO them. it's hard to focus.
18. my backyard after dark when i am all alone and the sky is clear. being able to find the little dipper and seeing where it is in proximity to my home.
19. small town feelings (east nashville) and big city anonymity.
20. great music that makes me forget who i am and then remind who i am 4 seconds later.
21. getting postal mail from someone i love (postcard, letter, card...a nice little hello) it makes me smile.
22. people who "get" me.
23. researching. learning. exploring.
24. black and white photographs. old. new. people i know. people i don't.
25. spending the day completely alone with nothing to do. (only every once in a while)
26. slightly damp paper.


things i don't like AT ALL:
1. arguments that don't go anywhere.
2. unfounded judgement.
3. ignorance.
4. being ignored.
5. my computer freezing (which hardly happens...its an apple)
6. people misusing "in regards to" (it's "in regard to")
7. holes in my socks.
8. overdraft fees.
9. car trouble.
10. misunderstandings.
11. assholes. bitches. with no reason.
12. the last sip of beer.. when its warm and ick.
13. seeing my friends in pain or suffering in emotional turmoil and knowing there isn't anything i can do to help.
14. seeing stray dogs or cats.