Thursday, November 29, 2012

Pour mes neveux

If I never accomplish anything but, I want to make you love.
I do, however, wish to warn you. Although love can be the greatest feeling you may ever feel, it can bring on the harshest of pains. I need you to appreciate the pain. Dolly Parton once said, “the way I see it, if you want the rainbow you gotta put up with the rain.” I want you to know that it’s okay to feel pain. It’s human. It’s beautiful. And it is good for you.
What’s not okay is feeling dead inside. Complacency is a very close runner up. No matter how hard your pain is, I want you to always be able to cherish good memories. Don't ever let your heart get hardened. No matter how bitter your heartache makes you, I need you to capture that way that you felt when you first felt love. I’m not talking about family love although I think that is incredibly important too. I’m talking about the kind of love they make movies about.
I don’t know if it’s normal to feel what I once felt but I know I felt joy in the simple idea of a thought of someone. If that even makes sense. Just knowing that there was someone out there that floated on clouds just thinking of me. The way I floated on clouds just thinking of him.
I don’t just need you to love, I need you to be loved. Never accept anything less. There is no point in holding someone close to your heart if they don’t do the same. And don't settle. Don't let you make yourself believe that it's love because you want to say that you loved. When you feel it, you won't have to ask if it is. When you love someone, you'll not only know but others will be able to tell. By the way you can't stop smiling just because you heard their name. Or the way you blush when they just look your way. The way you won't be able to form a complete sentence let alone thought. It will feel almost miserable but also, completely not.
So don't let your heart get sidetracked. Demand only the best.
I need you to know your worth. Because you’re worth everything to me. Never spring for anything less than happiness. But know that happiness, like I was saying, comes at a price. You can’t sit there and safely, humbly coast through life. You must take chances and you must scream at the top of your lungs. You must fall hard. And don’t worry- I may not be there to catch you but I will pick up the pieces I promise. And I might not get them all back and in the right places but you’ll be just as beautiful to me.
And in some weird and twisted ways, you'll feel refreshed, renewed, re-purposed.
And to me, you’ll never mean anything less than everything. I need you to know that. I need you to know that I love you. Perhaps more than you will ever even know. So here is my advice, in rhyming form as I do best.

You must run your body out of breath.
You must show grief for love and hope for death.
You must kiss like it would kill you to not.
You must love. And you must love a lot.
You must run further than you ever could.
You must cry harder than you ever would.
You need to feel heartache. You need pain.
You need rainbows just like you need rain.
You need to love like you’ll never love again.
You need to be the worlds best friend.
I want you to scream until your voice is sore.
I want you to whisper until you must roar.
I want you to sing, loud and unclear.
I want you to release your every fear.
It’s okay to get hurt- I’ll be here for you.
It’s okay to cry, to feel nothing but blue.
So long as you’re feeling, that is okay.
You’ll feel better on some other day.
And no matter what, we’ll do it together.
And I’ll love you best, for always and ever.

Monday, May 28, 2012

la liberté

Leave it up to a veteran on Memorial Day to put things into perspective. In so many words, he has reminded me that we, as American citizens, don't fight for our everyday life or have the need or desire to start a revolution and make big changes because those before us already have. We, as a country, are free. And instead of wishing I could be more like fictional characters in a story book, I should be happy and relieved that I don't face such dangers and impositions. I am proud of my cousin for having risked his life to go make others' more free. I am proud of my great grandpa who fought in WWII and is still well and working because he can be and chooses to be. Perhaps I am even envious of them because they did something I don't think I could ever do. Not only did they prove to be the epitome of physical and emotional strength but they fought for a cause that they felt, neigh knew, was important. They lived far away from home with little to no communication with their family and they succeeded in their mission and they, now, live each breath of their life with pride and with honor and with respect.
Thank you to our soldiers- past, present and future. Words can never express my gratitude.

Thursday, May 24, 2012

faux feux

*Inspired by thoughts of comparison between our current, real, present lives in America and the fictional lives of those horrendous people from the Capitol in, you guessed it, Catching Fire (the second book of the Hunger Games trilogy). This isn't a story and it doesn't deserve much thought. Just a throw-up of thoughts. A need to convince myself that I may not do much or mean much as I exist but at least I am not wealthy and glutinous and at least I don't demand others' lives to entertain my own. It can also serve as a subtle reminder that I may not make much of an impact. And also that that should be okay because I am only human. And that's all I ever will be anyway.*
I sit around and I think. I am no longer a body, empowered. I am a soul, sitting. I can eat but that just makes me queasy. I can cook but that will just feed those here with me. I can sleep but all I do anyway is wake up with a headache. I don't want to be queasy. I want my head to stop hurting. I try and think of my purpose. What am I doing? Where am I going? What can I do?
In this modern world, things are as easy as sleeping at eating. And you have to work, usually for the man, to eat and sleep (at least comfortably). But that is all. Those are our struggles. We have nothing to overcome but boredom. We don't have anything to revolt against. Except for, maybe, our revolting selves. There is nothing demanding our attention except for, maybe, in places far enough away to lack the need for immediate attention. So we're removed from it. Enough so that we often don't even understand or acknowledge that maybe there is somewhere out there that needs us or could, at the very least, use us.
Instead we sit here, useless. Futile. We are satisfied enough being ugly. We are selfish and dull. And yet, we're looked up to. And we are proud. You know, to be American. To be the privileged elite.
Even if we can prove to make a difference in our lifetimes, what will that mean? Near or far. We can teach kids to deal with death, to be strong and confident individuals, to stand their ground but, in the end, we're just people and they're just people. We can support a struggling nation and provide them with stability but in the end they are just a nation of people and we are just a nation of people. And, in the end, we will die and they will die. And until then we will just be people and they will just be people. We will simply exist. And then we won't anymore.
Maybe, past our physical existence, we will survive in stories of history. But then, we will just be words. We may be immoral but even as our words reach those that may exist in the future, they will still be humans. Just as we were humans. And they will dye. I saw a quote the other day, "Our purpose in life is to give life purpose." I guess I just still don't understand. It's just life. Until it's death and eventually it ceases to exist.
We are a nation of decency, above all else. And a generation of tolerance. We are not evil. We just are. And that's decent. That's tolerable. We sit around and argue about freedoms and who has the rights to do what and who we should be but it doesn't really matter anyway because we're not under someone else's direct control. And we are not, our selves, in full control either. No one wants to have that responsibility even if they could. We simply are. We exist. And we accept that. And we will continue to do so until we don't. And then we won't. And that's all. That's that.

Thursday, May 17, 2012

ne lire pas

*Spoiler Alert* If you haven't already read the Hunger Games (and still might do so eventually)- don't read this post yet. It kinda sorta gives away a little bit of the plot. Ish.

It's been a long time since I remember feeling inadequate. Every once in a while, I get the mid-life crisis, don't know where I'm going with myself, feeling but I seem to be able to off put that feeling by reassuring myself of what all I have. I know I have family and friends that I love and that love me and I have an easy life and I'm blessed to be healthy and everything. I know. And usually, I am happy being single so much so that I don't even look at it as me being single, just me being happy. With myself. Without needing someone else.
But thanks to the Hunger Games, I feel the tides changing. I feel that feeling I felt back in high school when I watched Tristan and Isolde. I was in a funk for weeks just wishing I could live in a time like that or be a part of a life like that. Of a love like that. I was pissed at the world for being able to create such beauty on screen and even more pissed that it couldn't be recreated in real life.
Love doesn't tear nations apart. Love doesn't conquer all.
The Hunger Games doesn't even create that intensely deep of a passion, of a true true-love story but it describes that feeling so well. The feeling of being safe and comforted in someone else's arm, of wanting to be noticed. The pain of having to consider living without the other.  Sooner or later, I am going to quit watching these kinds of movies and reading these kinds of books. It's not interesting in a way that keeps me eager and willing to learn more. It's not compelling or motivating for me to seek change because I am certain it is impossible. It's like trying to seek magic. I know it doesn't exist but still this idea seems so much more tangible.
It's like love is my carrot and I'm just the bunny aimlessly chasing after it, never willing to accept that it will forever stay, as it always has been, just slightly beyond my reach. It's depressing. It's the media's way of shoving it in our faces that we will never compete with fiction. Whether that was their goal or not. And I hate it.

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

café! et qu'est-ce que c'est?

Two things I've been absolutely addicted to as of late? Caffeine, especially coffee, and news. Now, the caffeine part is no news. I've been addicted to caffeine for a long time now. But the news thing, that's new for me.
For the same reason I never really appreciated history lessons, I had a hard time following the news. None of it seemed relevant. It happened somewhere else to someone else and had/has no immediate (if any) effect on me. I'm not proud of it but you could say I was apathetic. Still, I have a hard time caring about and/or focusing on most history lessons but I have learned to appreciate more of the surrounding world currently.
This started because I felt like I stopped growing as a person. I graduated with my bachelor's and haven't decided on if/when/where to go back to school yet. My job can be challenging but it doesn't necessarily extend much beyond the brick and mortar. A goal that I have tried to set for myself is to always strive to be better. Smarter, stronger, somehow better. I decided to start listening to NPR in the mornings.
NPR is a gateway news feed. Soon enough, I would flip by a news channel and flip back to find myself sucked in partly because I wanted to see if I could learn anything new and partly to show off (even if only to myself) that I had already learned about the current topics during my A.M. NPR session. Now I read headlines when I see them on my e-mail homepages or stories when friends post them on facebook.
Furthermore, the teacher in me wants to share all of my learned lessons with everyone else. Again, this is partly to show off what I know about current topics. Still, it is also to learn others' input and to just spread the wealth of knowledge to those I know and especially to those I love.
I feel like my description thus far of my new news-appreciation is mediocre. Many have shared similar relationships with the media for years. What pushes it into an addiction is that I feel the burden of wanting to know everything, usually hopefully before I have to find out from someone I know. It's part of my "discoverer's syndrome". Yes, I diagnosed myself. Yes, I made up that diagnostic term.
This may seem narcissistic or stubborn or something but I have a hard time accepting/appreciating things (especially tv shows) that I don't feel I would have "discovered" without the help of someone close to me. While I can appreciate that they are willing to share with me the things that they like, it almost subconsciously bothers me that I am depending on them to supply me with knowledge/recommendations/etc. I spent a few years ignoring shows like Scrubs because someone else had told me about them. Once I started watching Scrubs and started to realize what an awesome show it is, I realized what was going on. So you could say I'm working my way through the stages of recovery, I guess. I'm at admittance and acceptance.
I just need to know more. Nothing fuels my mind and reading awareness/comprehension, I feel, better than caffeine. So there you have.

Coffee! And what is that?

What's new? What's happening? What went on? What can I do? What can I learn?

Ever inquisitve, ever challenging, ever growing, ever beautiful,
m'appelez Bella

Monday, April 9, 2012

le problème c'est que je t'aime

Yes, my heart is broken
but that is okay.
I'm saving up my happiness
for a rainy day.

No, I don't need fixing.
I don't miss love at all.
The awkward bits, the loneliness,
The way, in love, you "fall"

I'm not much for emotion.
I certainly don't like pain.
For me, myself and I,
Love is nothing like a "gain"

I'm better off without him.
No, I don't miss love at all.
Even on my saddest nights,
I'm not waiting for his call.

I don't need a man to hold me.
I don't want a better half.
Loving him was hurting.
Now I'm smiling. Now, I laugh.

Yes, I'm glad I met him.
Yes, we had good times.
I never will forget him-
He's inspiring these rhymes.

So now I'm moving forward.
I've been sad but now I'm fine
I don't want a fairy-tale ending
I just want my life to be...

Saturday, March 31, 2012


I would like to propose a new field of studies. If this already exists somewhere, let me know! I will definitely look into it. Before I jump into the details, I would like to thank Pinterest for the inspiration. Oh, Pinterest.
Every day I log on, I see pictures of places I have never been and of foods I would have never thought to create, of clothes I would have never thought to wear let alone design. All of these new and wonderful things inspired me. Thank you Pinterest.
I propose a study of the world, in it's entirety. Mostly culturally. The world would just be "Earth" if it wasn't for the people that make an impact. As a human race, we have the ability to care, to change, to create. That is a constant throughout the world. The purpose of these studies would not be to break language barriers or to learn one culture (or any) in its entirety. The purpose would be to get a broader concept of what goes on all over the world.
Sure, they have exchange programs where one student can live with a family of another culture and learn more about their structure- their schools, their language, their society. As humans, we are constantly evolving. Exchange programs have existed for long enough to seek improvement and growth. We should be expanding beyond one other culture, beyond learning languages. We should be learning about people.
Things identified as cultural basics can vary from one person to the next. Language may make it easier to learn about the differences but there are many other ways to read a culture than by understanding what they are saying. Even just on the plain of communication, there is body language and there is expression through a multitude of media- music, dance, adornment.
My proposal is to experience, understand and/or interpret these other ways to "read" culture and take something from it. Let me be clear- As americans, the purpose is not to bring it back and Americanize it although I'm sure that would make for an easily expandable business market. I know it can be easy to sell someone on something from another culture, especially if it seems new to them and especially if it seems like something that will be widely accepted by their current culture.
There are a few reasons for me to propose it as a class instead of a personal experience. First, I think it would be much easier and much more likely for others to participate if it were organized by someone at the university level. This point isn't so much to have translators but just to have a plan. People have a tendency to talk about doing things but fall through with it if they don't initially set up a concrete plan. Also, this way general observations can be shared and these findings could potentially inspire others to go too. Lastly, it is a proposal to improve on the mainframe of university studies as they are today. I am encouraging all levels of growth from personal to world-wide growth, global adaptation, and a giant step towards an evolution of the learning process.

Saturday, March 24, 2012


The thing is, when you're smart enough to know what is going on in the world, you can't help but over-think things. At one point in my life, if you would have come to me with your problems, telling me you think too much, I may have believed that you and I were the only ones. As I meet more and more sophisticated individuals, I realize that this is common. And what is "too much" really?

The other day, an intelligent individual shared with me a quote. After googling what I could remember of the quote, I believe I have found that it was originally by Jonathon Safron Foer. It goes like this:

 "I think and think and think, I've thought myself out of happiness a million times but never once into it."

Sucks doesn't it?Now, it is obvious that the only individuals free of this over-analyzing curse are the individuals too dumb to realize it exists. And who wants to be that either?

Either way, I'd say that no-one is truly satisfied with everything about life all of the time. And that's okay. It's okay to be sad, to be forsaken, to be thoughtful. I've said something like that before and I know that I've already said this, "It's okay to be happy." No matter what wrongs exist in the world, there isn't any single individual that can fix them all. Sometimes,we just need to accept the things that surround us, work on what we can and acknowledge that that will have to be enough. It is not going to do anyone any good to just be constantly thinking ourselves out of happiness.

tu es triste. je suis désolée

Birds and Tears. Words and Fears.
If only I could be the wings on your caged bird
If only I were the songs of a dove
If only the swans shared their beauty
If only I, solely, was your love

But you are the cage that surrounds me
You don’t even know I’m inside
Maybe, when once you had found me,
You wouldn’t be lacking such pride

If you could see beauty that profounds you
You’d be a happier man
If you could accept me, my beauty
You’d love me for the who that I am

If only I could be there when you cry
Even just as the tear on your cheek
I’d comfort you, falling, and then dry
I would make your future less meek

I’d wash away hurt and stay close by
I’d be with you while you felt pain
I would let time pass and just stand by
I would, for your world, be the rain

And in the end, you’d see my beauty
In the end, you’d feel me again
In the end, I’d die for you, mutely
In the end, I’d have nothing to gain

But it’s not about winning or losing
The battle, it stirs deep within
For longing and longing, I’ve lost you
And I’ll never see you again.

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

m'appelez belle

Call me beautiful. That is  what I want to hear.
I want to know that I leave an impression. I want to make a difference. If I am nothing else to the world but beauty, at least I will have been that.
Don't call me pretty. Pretty is petty. Beauty is all encompassing. Beauty blooms, from the inside, out. Calling me beautiful is like calling me meaningful.
When you call me beautiful, you tell me you care. When you tell me I'm beautiful, I know you noticed. When I am called beautiful, I feel strong.
If I am beautiful, I am useful.
As a beautiful human being, I am kind. As a beautiful woman, I am inspiring. As a beautiful sister, aunt, daughter, friend, I am loving.
With my beauty, I hold purpose. With my beauty, I captivate. With my beauty, I love.

Thursday, February 16, 2012


It's a slippery slope, living for the future. The farther you get into it, the farther you feel from it, the farther you start reaching. I was inspired by Yeah Dave's guide to livin' the moment when I read it a couple years ago. Reading some of his stuff was like a revelation. There were some obvious things that I remember having heard all my life and I feel would be common sense even if no-one ever told me but there were also some things that I felt brought me to life.
I haven't focused on it so much in the day to day life lately but he recommended to each and every day enjoy: something beautiful, something humorous and something delicious. Within a few months after reading this, I was noticing to myself all that was beautiful, all that was funny and all that was yummy in a day. I often felt proud of this and would even share these things with my friends. Whether that meant sharing the actual experiences or sharing my tales of these experiences pretty much depended on where they were. I remember feeling energized and revitalized. I felt as though I was I doing something good even if I didn't really have a purpose.
It is hard to be happy when you are weighing yourself down with the pressure of having to matter to everyone. To be honest, if you didn't try at all I would be willing to guarantee that you would still matter to at least one person. And it's the people that you matter to without trying that you should be happiest about, should be closest to, should try to matter for.
It takes a really decent person to care about and care for other people. I don't mean to just care about and for your family- that usually comes naturally. And I don't just mean someone who does things for others. A lot of people do things for others just for the gratitude. Some don't help others out for others' sake. Some people do it for some sort of self gratification in the end. It's the people who just do it because they see a problem out there and they hope for a better ending. The people that share concern for the future of not just themselves but of others.
That got off on a tangent. I was talking about the future so I guess that was coming back but still. What I am trying to say is that I am finding it very hard to live in the now.
In interviews, people like to ask where you see yourself in five years. It completely freaks me out that I have absolutely no idea. It freaks me out thinking that if I were to instantly jump five years into the future, it would be like waking up an amnesiac with no idea of how I got there. I don't know where I'm going and I don't know what I'm doing to get there...

Thursday, February 9, 2012

les temps froid

There are many reasons why winter sucks. The first hundred reasons? Snow. Snow makes driving (and walking) dangerous. It makes your daily commute at least double. It gets dirty and ugly quickly and covers everything that reminds you that there is still  or ever was an eco-system, a life form, on Earth. It's a bitch to shovel and scrape  sidewalks, driveways, cars, etc. Need I say more? No. Everyone else living in a wintry climate knows. And for the rest of humanity, why should I bring 'em down? The biggest reason I hate winter is because the cold means I cannot wear my "good" clothes. I love dresses and skirts more than any other clothing item. Some days, I even like crop tops. Especially those passed down by a friend. Or super vintage, passed down by a great aunt.  I guess I have been kinda lucky this year with the "lack" of snow but I went to wear this shirt one day and then realized that I would freeze as soon as I got to work. Because the doors don't always close. And/or the heat doesn't always feel warm. So, instead I took some pictures. To remind me of days to come.  In the summertime, I like to dress up in my creations and set-up self-modeled, self-shot photoshoots. It's fun to play dress up and work on sharing my creations with others. These, in the pictures, are not my creations. Some jeans from work, shoes from Macy's and super cute shirt from one of my best friends. I love the yoke and buttons on the back <3 And I am liking how the shirt , standing with arms down, just meets the jeans. Like they were made for each other.

Brother-face bought me a domain name last year. We are currently working on setting it up. It is mostly just him writing code and whatever you do to set up a web page. I'm more like the creative director. Which is always fun of course.  More to come. I'll share the link and stuff when it is more presentable : )

Saturday, February 4, 2012

les biscuits et les verres

Thanks to Pinterest, your average Joe can dream up all sorts of creations. Or mimick all sorts of others' creations. Here is my Peanut Butter Hug "cookie". 
I was going for a sweet pink so the hug looked more like zebra stripes but I got a humble rose color. I'm not disappointed. They taste pretty good. I used an idea that I found at However, I did not read it well enough to find that I should have used gel food coloring. I used some target off-brand liquid drops. Probably the cause of the humbled mumble-bumble rosy pink instead of the hot look-at-me pink.
(That was just what I had at the house.) And when she refers to the recipe I again used just what was around the house. So dairy-margarine instead of not and plain creamy Skippy peanut butter instead of natural. Things like that...

I also tried breaking beer bottles down into glasses. I read about this technique in a magazine my cousin had last year or a couple years ago. Seeing it on pinterest reminded me that I wanted to try that. So I finally did. Once again, I used what was around the house instead of what was recommended. For this, I looked at's several pages on "How to cut class with string"/similarly named topics to get the gist of it. I ended up soaking some pink kitchen cotton crochet yarn that has been sitting in my sewing room for a while now. After a few different trials -oh there were errors, obviously- I wound the yarn around the bottle a couple/few times, cut and tied it and took it off to soak in, in the end, lamp oil. I tried nail polish remover but it just didn't burn long enough. Maybe not enough acetone. 
I don't know why but there was an unopened gallon of lamp oil in the basement. It has to have been sitting there for at least five years. Probably. I used some machine-washable gloves that I bought for my printing and dyeing class to push the soaked yarn back into place. Sitting at the side of the bath tub with a metal tub full of cold water under my arms, I took off one glove to strike a match and light the yarn. While sliding my hand back into the glove, I watched and turned the bottle as the yarn self-extinguished. (Note to self: Oven mittens are not necessarily flame retardant. But I learned that a different way, don't worry.)
As soon as it was done, I dunked it in the cold water. After some attempts, I heard the "pop" that I read about and the glass was broken. But not neatly like I thought it would be. And repeat. ish. I'm planning out working on the kinks. I think the big chunkers of edgy glass are from the yarn-knots. I plan to trim/tuck them better next time. Also, I am thinking that it would create a more consistent/leveled break to put the glass in the water vertically instead of randomly rolling it into the cold. Trying to make sure that the hot ring goes cold all at once should work. Hopefully. We'll see. I gave up for the day after two failed-ish attempts. And then made the afformentioned cookies. That failed-ish.

 This was my first attempt (above). It went through a few different burning yarns and cold-dunkings. There were a lot of rugged edges left and as a result a lot of little pieces were still breaking off in the sanding process. For once in my life, I actually kept my gloves on for the project (except of course to light the match).
The one with the label was my second attempt. You can see that it is smoother but still not necessarily something someone will want to drink out of. Oh right, did I mention that instead of a diamond emery, I used a 400grit sandpaper? I'm looking into getting the emery. I sanded out the sharp parts, it is perfectly safe for rubbing your finger all over. Trust me, I did so again and again and again. It just needs a good sanding down for obvious aesthetic purposes, you know?

Thursday, January 19, 2012


Reading Palahniuk doesn't make you feel good about yourself. You don't become a better person having read his works. Your life becomes no more significant than it was before, necessarily.
It's like looking at Picasso's works. You don't admire them for their beauty. They don't show that you have a true appreciation of art. Or abstract even.
These men, their works, inspire. And not in the, "I'm going somewhere," "I can achieve greatness," "the world is my canvas," sort of way. But in a way more subtle. They challenge you to think. To look back at all that is crooked and easily undefined or more commonly over-defined.
Palahniuk, like Picasso, is giving you another approach to observing, to viewing. To thinking. To appreciating. To approaching life. He takes your world and, with words, tears it apart from the seams. He realizes all vantage points and selectively adheres new perspective to parts/people/places you already know.
And he is not doing it for you. He just does it because he can. If he knew that not a single person would read it, he would probably still write it anyway. Because he is a writer. Because that is what he does. Because he thought it. Or knew it. Or figured it out. And even if he weren't guaranteed readers, in written form, it would at least have the potential to be read. Even if just by himself again, years down the road.
How selfish would we be to keep our thoughts to ourselves? To keep our epiphanies, our revelations, our discoveries limited to those who epiphanized, revolutionized, discovered.
Still- How selfish would we be to expect that someone actually cared about every thought that we've had? Or any? Any epiphanies, any revelations, any discoveries. They may have seemed significant to us but why do we care if or hope that someones else learns of/from them?
Even the diary of Anne Frank, presumably written for her own eyes, is shared and studied and applied to modern day morals, philosophies, history lessons, etc.