March 31, 2011
March 30, 2011
On Definitions And Fuel
The rush. The wave I ride through days of focused persistence and nights of determination. Important work fuels. Runs through my veins. Steady. Cluttered chaos falls away and I intuitively navigate. Hours melt away and minutes pass unnoticed. Until completed.
When it's time to go, nothing more to do here, solid job, I walk out the door into the night. The air has a new depth with woven dark and damp pieces I didn't recognize before. The bright street lights force a squint until a yellow halo appears around the head of the man selling newspapers to support the homeless. The escalator doesn't move fast enough on these nights. I'm a few strides short of running and my feet move at a pace faster than my head. I'm still thinking slow and steady, as I stream through the entrance gate and slide into the empty seat in an almost empty car.
That song on repeat. As if I could ever help it. Perhaps I'm swallowed whole, but I already dove in. Let go and let this all wash over me. With my eyes closed I can see clearly and with them open I watch the rain slam sideways against the metro window. I'm already outside with it streaming down my face. Out there somewhere between laughter and tears where it all feels exactly as it should. We're here together. I can feel it all. I know precisely what to do.
The rush will wear off and the wave will deliver me to the shore, where my legs will give way. I'll end up laid out on the sand out of breath. Left wondering. About the dark woven sky and the feel of rain. Everything that I knew, now gone. The clutter returns. And I try, again, to define myself.
When it's time to go, nothing more to do here, solid job, I walk out the door into the night. The air has a new depth with woven dark and damp pieces I didn't recognize before. The bright street lights force a squint until a yellow halo appears around the head of the man selling newspapers to support the homeless. The escalator doesn't move fast enough on these nights. I'm a few strides short of running and my feet move at a pace faster than my head. I'm still thinking slow and steady, as I stream through the entrance gate and slide into the empty seat in an almost empty car.
That song on repeat. As if I could ever help it. Perhaps I'm swallowed whole, but I already dove in. Let go and let this all wash over me. With my eyes closed I can see clearly and with them open I watch the rain slam sideways against the metro window. I'm already outside with it streaming down my face. Out there somewhere between laughter and tears where it all feels exactly as it should. We're here together. I can feel it all. I know precisely what to do.
The rush will wear off and the wave will deliver me to the shore, where my legs will give way. I'll end up laid out on the sand out of breath. Left wondering. About the dark woven sky and the feel of rain. Everything that I knew, now gone. The clutter returns. And I try, again, to define myself.
Posted by
Emily
at
11:19 PM
March 29, 2011
March 28, 2011
Weekend Recap: In Photos
I take photos most weekends. If you're interested, I usually update my flickr account every Sunday night. My mom came to visit this past weekend with our her dog, Blossom, and I thought I would share a couple of photos... because, ya'know visitors means sharing photos, of course.
Saturday was the start of the Cherry Blossom Festival. It was cold but gorgeous.
We spent some time at the monuments and memorials. This is the WWII Memorial and the Washington Monument in the distance.
I choked back tears at the Vietnam Memorial.
The reflecting pool lacked water but still reflected... technically.
And I spent some quality time snuggling with Blossom under the Blossoms. I'll cue the "awww" on three... Although, we never managed to get the perfect picture...
How was your weekend?
March 27, 2011
How Blue The Sky Is Today
These days I fear I will never get it all done. Never enough time to drink up the sky and sweep the hallway floor. My car tires never seem to have enough air. I slip quarters in to the slots to pay for a condensed version of what chaps my hands or fills my lungs, depending. But never both at the same time. When I figure out how to laugh out loud in the grocery store, I forget the cream for the coffee.
My laundry sits folded, at the bottom of my bed, while I'm up top with a chorus of "Yes!" to the still blank walls and empty room. Song writing is life writing. I'll take notes on advice I'll never forget. But he can claim that title of artist with a bedtime at 2am and the gym at noon. While my black suit hangs behind my closet door. I'll have yogurt for lunch tomorrow. And a frozen meal for dinner. But not cream in my coffee. Or the mind that's still enough to say, 'this is how I feel,' not, 'this is what I think.'
The ironing will go undone and the alarm will sound too early. I'll lose myself in work I believe in. Correct the dangling preposition. Lose myself. Fix the "world" without noticing how blue the sky is today.
My laundry sits folded, at the bottom of my bed, while I'm up top with a chorus of "Yes!" to the still blank walls and empty room. Song writing is life writing. I'll take notes on advice I'll never forget. But he can claim that title of artist with a bedtime at 2am and the gym at noon. While my black suit hangs behind my closet door. I'll have yogurt for lunch tomorrow. And a frozen meal for dinner. But not cream in my coffee. Or the mind that's still enough to say, 'this is how I feel,' not, 'this is what I think.'
The ironing will go undone and the alarm will sound too early. I'll lose myself in work I believe in. Correct the dangling preposition. Lose myself. Fix the "world" without noticing how blue the sky is today.
March 24, 2011
Awkward and Awesome Thursdays!
Awkward
The amount of sugar I put in my coffee. Especially on the days I buy coffee before work during the morning rush and half of the place watches as I dump waaayyy too many sugar packets into my cup. This is why I love diner-style sugar containers.
Not being able to check the mail at my apartment because I a) don't know which number our mail box is and b) can't get a key to fit in any of the mail boxes. Yes, I may have tried every single combination. Fun times.
The laundry situation. It's in the basement, which is my roommate's domain entirely. So I always feel like I am walking through her space to use the washer in the corner. And I feel even weirder when she comes home and I'm walking up the stairs. "Um, hi. Just doing my laundry. Promise."
Actually, the entire roommate situation. I could pass by my other roommate on the street and not recognize him. I'm 100% serious. I never, ever see him.
Awesome
Spring has arrived in DC and in less than 3 weeks, so do these two lovely ladies! (Pssssst - it's Alivia's birthday, you should leave her some comment love...)
My mom comes to visit this weekend. And she's bringing the dog. I might be counting down the minutes....
Holi. If I remember correctly, it is the celebration of color and the triumph of good over evil. I think it is also the day when the societal order gets turned upside down. The lowest in social hierarchy are celebrated and the highest are shunned. It's a day to remember that chaos is needed to keep order. (Don't quote me on any of that... my knowledge dates back to fall 2001 without a whole lot of refreshers, but you get the general idea...) Someday I'm going to celebrate... in India, of course. =)
March 22, 2011
March 20, 2011
Daydreaming & Overalls
I'm not sure what happened, exactly, last week. Technically, I spent a lot of time at work, or at home doing work, didn't sleep very much, and ate a lot of ice cream. When I look back on this past week though, I'm pretty sure I'll remember it as the week when time folded onto itself. It will be the week when 2008 and 2011 occurred back-to-back without the existence of 2009 or 2010. And the week when opportunities I asked for showed up much sooner than I expected. Absurd, right? Also, awesome.
March 18, 2011
March 17, 2011
Awkward and Awesome Thursdays
Awkward
When a 70something man gets on the metro and refuses a seat offered to him. And then starts hanging on the overhead bar. And then starts doing pull-ups on it. AFTER EVERY STOP. How long can you go before you join the bursts of laughter from the pockets of teenagers?
Trying to navigate the fine balance of being interested in a conversation with a guy because he is so. so. interesting. but not wanting give him the impression you want to make-out with him. Because you don't. And then not knowing what to do when he gives you his number. Ummm, thanks? Let's get together sometime to... talk?
Taking a big bite of your turkey sandwich and remembering out-loud that you're now a vegetarian. "Omigod! I'm a vegetarian!" *cue co-worker laughter*
The number of times I circled the grocery store looking for hummus.
Awesome
Remembering I can stream the Acoustic Sunrise Cafe over the internet. Perfect Sunday morning accompaniment to my Sunday morning coffee.
Discovering how much I love purchasing things on Etsy. This bag. These earrings. I absolutely love the products and I feel great supporting the non-corporate.
The (natural!) high I get sitting through legislative hearings. And the really awesome paradigm shift I had sitting in one today (hopefully more on this later...).
The fact that I had enough foresight to buy a HUGE container of ice cream on Sunday, knowing this week would mean late nights of work. I could live off of ice cream. And coffee. (Had to throw that in there, too!)
Your turn! Awkward & Awesome?
March 14, 2011
March 13, 2011
How To Get A Date
Move to a city. Lament Monday through Friday that you are never dressed appropriately. Worry that you will never fit in. Forget all this on Saturdays. Get dressed in only the clothes easiest to locate in your closet. Wash your face but not your hair. Or wash your hair but don't brush it. Skip the make-up. Hat optional. Slip into your sneakers without untying them. Make it to the metro just in time to sit for fifteen minutes. Curse single-tracking. Turn up the ipod to drown out the kids. Fall in love with a song. Hit the repeat button all day. Let it move your feet, move your lips, swing your hips. Forget to worry that someone might see. Get lost in the crowd. Find a corner of a coffee shop. Sip slowly. Write with fervor. Tell stories of the past - they're still here with you. Capture the present. Create the future. Keep writing. Move from the corner and out the door. Say goodbye to the barista. Explore. Use the lens. Look for the details. Focus on the moments. Lose yourself in the process. Find yourself in late afternoon.
Decide to take an early evening nap. Head for the metro. Keep that song on repeat. Look up when he says "excuse me." Say yes or say no to a dinner invitation. Make sure to say thank you. Put your earphones back on.
Or decide to have that second cup of coffee. Head for a coffee shop. Sit at the window. Sip slowly. Try to write. Get distracted by the people walking the streets. Say yes through the window to buying a newspaper supporting and written by the homeless. Thank the vendor for coming inside. Put the newspaper in your bag to read later. Return to your words. Be gentle on yourself when they don't arrive at all. Smile when he sits beside you. Answer when he asks about the newspaper. Squirm when he asks about your writing. Tell him he's right when he says, "I don't know you, but you have a lot in your head. I can tell." Ask questions that make you feel intelligent when you're interested in what he is saying. Ask questions that make you feel dumb when you don't understand what he is saying. Don't think about what you'll say if he asks you to dinner. Even when he asks what you are doing later that night. Tell him you might be going grocery shopping. Mean it. Ask him to tell you about living in Paris. Let him give you his number. Make sure to say thank you. Even if you're not going to use it. Put your earphones back on.
Head home.
Decide to take an early evening nap. Head for the metro. Keep that song on repeat. Look up when he says "excuse me." Say yes or say no to a dinner invitation. Make sure to say thank you. Put your earphones back on.
Or decide to have that second cup of coffee. Head for a coffee shop. Sit at the window. Sip slowly. Try to write. Get distracted by the people walking the streets. Say yes through the window to buying a newspaper supporting and written by the homeless. Thank the vendor for coming inside. Put the newspaper in your bag to read later. Return to your words. Be gentle on yourself when they don't arrive at all. Smile when he sits beside you. Answer when he asks about the newspaper. Squirm when he asks about your writing. Tell him he's right when he says, "I don't know you, but you have a lot in your head. I can tell." Ask questions that make you feel intelligent when you're interested in what he is saying. Ask questions that make you feel dumb when you don't understand what he is saying. Don't think about what you'll say if he asks you to dinner. Even when he asks what you are doing later that night. Tell him you might be going grocery shopping. Mean it. Ask him to tell you about living in Paris. Let him give you his number. Make sure to say thank you. Even if you're not going to use it. Put your earphones back on.
Head home.
March 11, 2011
March 10, 2011
Awkward and Awesome Thursdays!
Awkward & Awesome? Now that is totally something I can get on board with! Thanks to Alivia for the introduction and to Sydney for hosting. I think I'll show up to this party every week. =)
Awkward
Carrying a travel mug of coffee inside a zip lock bag, inside your work bag and it having spill. Then having to explain your insanity to a bunch of coworkers/onlookers in the kitchen as you rinse said zip lock bag. "Um, well, you see..."
Also, trying to explain why you're carrying your coffee inside a zip lock bag without using the phrases "I don't want to get a ticket for drinking on the metro!" and "I'm scared of the metro police!" So..."Um, well, you see..."
Socks. Ugh, socks. Need them to walk to the metro, but don't always need them for the shoes I wear all day. Thus, the awkward moments at the start of the day when I have to take. off. my. socks. in the office I share with two other people (heeeyy non-profit!).
Using the words wicked and y'all in the same sentence. Apparently my dialect doesn't know where it's living. Oops.
Getting caught taking a picture of your first iced latte of the season by most of Starbucks. With a really big camera. Because I don't have an iphone or blackberry. (Also awkward.)
Awesome
First iced-latte of the season!
My gmail account. Omg, I love sending emails. And receiving emails. I love email. The End. Oh, and also, twitter. Okay, now The End.
Getting a seat on the metro on the way home. Best way to end the work-day ever.
Spontaneously deciding to get a bagel from Panera (located riiighht below my office) and finding out you get it free. Yay Panera Rewards!
The first sips of hot coffee in the morning. Oh, those precious, simple, lovely moments... sigh.
Your turn! Awkward & Awesome?
March 8, 2011
March 7, 2011
Y'all
One day they'll ask when I started saying "y'all". I'll tell them of the freight train that rumbled by at night and the derby cap I never wore. How I waved it high as I jumped the train in men's knickerbockers and saddle shoes too large. Headed off across the country to see the rolling prairies and the red rocks. I'll tell them of the window that squeaked on its way down and let in the chuggachugga late-night soundtrack and a soft, warm breeze. My ipod, Bob Dylan, the moon, and I. Freedom is the rush of wind against your face, leaning too far out the window, and the ripple of fields under the stillness of the stars.
"No, really. When did you start saying 'y'all'?" They'll ask again, impatient with a time line that folds into itself. History that doesn't run straight. I'll tell them it's all a circle. When you hear the sound of the freight train at midnight, jump on, head south and then west. Listen carefully and love harder. Find the rivers that made their way through the rocks. Pay attention to the sunrise and the sunset. It's all a circle.
When I say "y'all", I hear that freight train. And I'm free.
And one day, they'll understand.
"No, really. When did you start saying 'y'all'?" They'll ask again, impatient with a time line that folds into itself. History that doesn't run straight. I'll tell them it's all a circle. When you hear the sound of the freight train at midnight, jump on, head south and then west. Listen carefully and love harder. Find the rivers that made their way through the rocks. Pay attention to the sunrise and the sunset. It's all a circle.
When I say "y'all", I hear that freight train. And I'm free.
And one day, they'll understand.
March 6, 2011
Granola and Tinsel
Ya'll. I sat down to write tonight and the words wouldn't make an appearance. It happens. So, I'm going to post something I wrote in 2006 when I was living in Vermont and reminiscing about 2004 when I was living in Los Angeles. Enjoy!
16th January, 2006. 10:16 pm.
Tall, white and slightly boxy the Beverly Hilton looks the same as it did two years ago, the sun gleams off the white exterior in the same exuberant manner, while accentuating the lush green trees and shrubbery surrounding the building. It gives off the impression of a tropical paradise rather than the desert that it is. Two years ago I did not spend the evening watching the Golden Globes. Rather I was asleep, probably by nine, still suffering from jet lag and more second thoughts than I expected.
I did watch the Academy Awards. They shut down Hollywood Blvd for the entire week before. Stuck in the routine traffic jam traveling south on Highland Avenue, we watched the handful of workers line the four-lane street with a red carpet and erect a larger than life statue of a gold naked man. It seemed as normal and routine as our forty-five minute commute to our internships, a mere eight miles away, and the eight dollar parking fee to see the twelve dollar movie.
I believe I met "Agent" a few days after the Academy Awards. A rescue from paper cuts, crooked staples, drawers of black and white headshots and endless resumes. A rescue from "MailRoomWorker", with the too-short pants who always gave careful instructions on how to baby-sit the fax machine; a rescue from the mute grey cabinets and sterile white walls.
I believe I met "Agent" a few days after the Academy Awards. A rescue from paper cuts, crooked staples, drawers of black and white headshots and endless resumes. A rescue from "MailRoomWorker", with the too-short pants who always gave careful instructions on how to baby-sit the fax machine; a rescue from the mute grey cabinets and sterile white walls.
A few doors down and over Agent’s shoulder was Beverly Hills. Composed entirely of windows, the “wall” behind Agent’s desk painted every fantasy I had ever dreamed of southern California: lush and green, although once again only a facade over the actual desert terrain. But in Agent’s office I didn’t mind so much, and I never understood why he positioned his desk with his back to it all. Perhaps he was afraid of heights.
Only slightly older than I, he often sat with his shoes off behind his cherry desk and we’d listen to Frank Sinatra, or occasionally Eminem, as the hours passed. He made sure I listened into all of his phone calls. I think mostly so he could have somebody to make fun of the industry people with. He never took anyone in entertainment seriously, and his office became a place of mediation between my growing loathing of the entertainment industry and my constant immersion in it. He would call his “crazy ex-girlfriend” and ask me to stay on the line and then make faces as she spoke; she was a true Hollywood stereotype. Agent held my sanity for most of the semester.
The internship really holds the only coherent memories I have of those months. The others move from warm swimming pools to the blinking lights of a Melrose psychic at midnight. Most of my memories revolve around car rides: Sunset blvd on a Friday night, Mulholland on a sunny day, a drive through Bel Air on Easter Sunday and “the 5” at 11pm on a Thursday night. Mostly I remember coloring books and trips to Ralph’s for bulk candy, the scent of the old BMW and Radio Disney, the only station it received. Writing by the light of my vanilla candle at night and falling asleep to Dashboard Confessionals…usually twice, because the four am entrances by my roommates were anything but quiet.
On Highland Avenue stood Shrek on a quite sizable billboard announcing his re-appearance on the big screen on May 19th. The add appeared most likely in late February and the first time, and every time, I saw it I could only think that I would be back on the east coast when he finally stormed theaters again. The time almost always seemed to be creeping by. That was two years ago and I still remember that date, May 19th 2004.
Only slightly older than I, he often sat with his shoes off behind his cherry desk and we’d listen to Frank Sinatra, or occasionally Eminem, as the hours passed. He made sure I listened into all of his phone calls. I think mostly so he could have somebody to make fun of the industry people with. He never took anyone in entertainment seriously, and his office became a place of mediation between my growing loathing of the entertainment industry and my constant immersion in it. He would call his “crazy ex-girlfriend” and ask me to stay on the line and then make faces as she spoke; she was a true Hollywood stereotype. Agent held my sanity for most of the semester.
The internship really holds the only coherent memories I have of those months. The others move from warm swimming pools to the blinking lights of a Melrose psychic at midnight. Most of my memories revolve around car rides: Sunset blvd on a Friday night, Mulholland on a sunny day, a drive through Bel Air on Easter Sunday and “the 5” at 11pm on a Thursday night. Mostly I remember coloring books and trips to Ralph’s for bulk candy, the scent of the old BMW and Radio Disney, the only station it received. Writing by the light of my vanilla candle at night and falling asleep to Dashboard Confessionals…usually twice, because the four am entrances by my roommates were anything but quiet.
On Highland Avenue stood Shrek on a quite sizable billboard announcing his re-appearance on the big screen on May 19th. The add appeared most likely in late February and the first time, and every time, I saw it I could only think that I would be back on the east coast when he finally stormed theaters again. The time almost always seemed to be creeping by. That was two years ago and I still remember that date, May 19th 2004.
Sometimes you need some tinsel to appreciate the granola.
March 4, 2011
March 2, 2011
March 1, 2011
Quiet
Thinking of quiet tonight. Cultivating spans of time with width and depth of quiet - not the same as silence. Thoughts that whisper and soothe. The distant rumble of the freight train. Strong and steady. Delivering promises of tomorrow's arrival.
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