oh, those summer nights

we have been in a drought for so long, this week has brought beautiful, big, fat, pancake drops to quench our thirst! i love it. i was sitting on the porch just watching the rain pool and slide off the roof. it was amazing. it took ten minutes to cool the air twenty degrees. i felt so full of love and calmness. i sat in the warm embrace of a kindred soul, drinking up the love that was given to me. i have had moments lately where and when i have been completely at peace. falling into a soft sweaty embrace, laughing till i can't think, all of this is much more meaningful that any professional development or training that i have ever had. the summer has brought so much more than heat, it has brought awakening, confusion, lust, and reflection. i dont know where i'm going, but i am having a blast getting there.

republican nominees

michele bachmann is a crazy bitch, who has a very limited knowledge base, which she is using to gain popularity

What it is

so, this is going to change... this is now the life of a teacher... a married teacher, in the suburbs. we are here. we are the products of the eighties. we are enlightened and have a voice.

i have a voice

this is my voice.

no one ever told me what it would be like to be an adult. period. no one had a sit down and tried, in any way, to rationally talk to me about growing up. it is crazy. i don't feel grown up. i am 31, and i do not feel like i am 31. what does that mean? first of all: THERE IS NO HAPPILY EVER AFTER. im sorry to break it to you. if you have a daughter do not feed her this fallacy. please. for the good of humanity, don't. i am not saying there is no happiness, quite the contrary. i am happy, and have been happy for most of my life, but i never thought a prince would come and save me. there is no prince. you are the only person who will ever save you. know that. life is beautiful and there is more out there for you than you could possibly imagine, but YOU are the only person that can make that happen.

belief

i was just having a conversation about belief. he said, i don't believe in anything. I said that i didn't believe that he could not believe in anything... everyone believes in some thing... After a minute or so, he said that maybe he did believe in somethings, so, the question came about: what do you believe in? it is apt for the occasion, so... i believe in me. i believe in love. i believe in truth. i believe in life. i believe in the good of people. i believe you can fix it. i believe in rainbows. i believe in the healing power of laughter. i believe, this too shall pass. i believe it will all be ok. i believe there is something more. i believe in you. i believe that everything matters, however, you can never harm beyond repair. this is what i believe, how about you?

Gravity Pits and Other Unfortunate Stumblings

Sometimes we get caught in a tornado. there we are, minding our own business, and some crazy outside factors conspire to change our lives. I feel like this is what has happened to me lately.

the sound of silence

it is amazing how important silence is. there are many kinds of silence: awkward, pregnant, romantic, anticipatory, suspenseful, when you are alone, in a crowded room. my favorite is with one other person. not awkward, but satisfying. post coital. or the moment right before you wake up, alone or with someone. when you are both waking up and alternately looking at each other to try and catch them when they wake. we tend so often to think that we have to fill every moment with sound. when having a conversation, most people are just waiting for their turn to talk. we rarely listen to each other anymore.

i recently spent a morning in bed, just listening to the silence. falling in an out of sleep, and feeling my surroundings. the morning light casting a beam across the floor. its amazing how much more heightened your senses become if you aren't trying to fill the space with sound. i could feel the warmth of the body next to me, see him breathing. taking speech out of the equation opens up all of the other sounds we forget too. i could hear the dog in the living room, sniffing. its a lot like meditation or yoga. you become aware of your body. aware of the space you take up, and the sensations that you feel. i could feel my breath and hear his heart beat. the silence of that morning has made me think about taking time to relish in quietness.

the past months have brought a change in the world. our hemisphere is getting ready for sleep, and there seems to be more silence in the winter months. snow is an insulator, and for some reason, the cold sucks the sound as well as the breath out of you. quietly sitting, i listen to the sound of my pencil on the paper, and the brush on the canvas. a wet brush has a much different sound than a dry one. the scratch of the stylus on a board. these are the sounds of my trade. i get lost sounds. so many tiny noises that bring me joy. the sound of knuckles cracking, rain, a zipper, a deep breath or sigh.

sighs are like silence, they can mean so many things. taking a feeling and interpreting it into a visual representation is an amazing thing. how do you show the silence of post-coital bliss? or the sigh just before you say goodbye? sometimes my mind goes faster than my mouth, or my hands. i work hard to capture a moment in my work, but in the end everything is transient and impermanent. feelings are fleeting and change is the only constant. the beauty in art is being able to hold on to that moment and share it with others, to bring them into me for that instant, then let them go. if you could relive a smell, or sound, wouldn't you?

There's no telling where we're going, which direction we are blowing...

This fall has brought many things with it. the cold, my new niece, intense learning and hectic schedules, just to mention some. I find myself thinking of something else though. i recently became frustrated because i hadn't completed any new work. i became trapped in the daily routine that is my life, and on a lark went to a friends birthday celebration and was reminded of the amazing connection that we have as humans.