Once Upon a Time

January 31, 2012

2012-01-31T00:02:00.000-05:00

January 27, 2012

2012-01-27T23:28:00.000-05:00

A few of my recent favorite finds...

Teeny star nose studs

Constellation pj pants from Anthropologie

Dreamlight from Urban Outfitters

van Gogh nails (a little on the long side, but kinda cool, right?)

Starry Night necklace

January 17, 2012

2012-01-17T17:01:00.000-05:00

small snowfall late last night.

finally.

mostly melted now, but it was a lovely, happy thing…

December 24, 2011

2011-12-24T22:42:00.000-05:00

all is merry and bright.

a very happy christmas to all!

(and to all a good night…)

December 22, 2011

2011-12-22T21:07:00.002-05:00

One of the best things about my job is that I get payed to make arts and crafts every day. And I have fourteen little kids to help me. This year, the director of my school declared an official holiday decorating competition between all the classrooms. I love Christmas. I also really like to win. So I went a little crazy with my kids and turned our classroom into Santa’s workshop. We have done nothing but paint and glue and cut and glitter everything in sight for the last two weeks… We made giant six-foot candy canes, a huge floor-to-ceiling fireplace, covered walls in wrapping paper to look like enormous presents, and suspended a miniature sleigh with all the reindeer. Here are some of the results:

We had a blast decking the halls (or at least, I did…I finally had one of my kids tell me a couple of days ago: Miss Amber, I DO NOT want to paint ANYTHING ELSE! before tossing his half-finished stocking aside and stomping over to the Legos).

We tied for first place today at the judging. A few coworkers also created a giant candy crown and named me the official “Christmas Queen”. It’s a lot to live up to, but it’s a title I’ll gladly carry...Now to start planning for next year…

A few of you have been asking about how the project is going…I got a bit behind with the holidays, working extra hours, and traveling in and out of town quite a bit the last couple months. I have completed the forms for all contributors, and will be sending them out very soon. Once that is done, and the hustle and bustle slows a bit, I will officially begin putting the book together.

This book building process – especially one with so many different ideas and concepts, themes, authors, photographers, and artists – is completely new to me. Parts of the process are taking longer or are a bit trickier than I anticipated. I cannot make any promises as to the specifics/publishing date/etc. yet, but I CAN promise that before 2012 is over, this project will be complete and you will all be able to hold this book in your hands! I will post more updates here (and on Twitter: www.twitter.com/its_just_am) as things progress. Thank you for your patience…

December 11, 2011

2011-12-11T22:24:00.000-05:00

It’s that time of year again to make resolutions. I am an obsessive list maker. I make multiple lists every day. I love organizing my thoughts and goals and the things I need to do. This is one of the reasons I always love coming into a New Year: I get to make the ultimate list.

However, as good as I usually am about checking off the items on my lists, I have been especially bad the last two or three years about sticking with my resolutions. I think this happens mostly because my resolution lists tend to be on the long side, and I feel a little stretched and scattered throughout the year trying to make them all happen. I also usually really want the things on my list to happen or be accomplished throughout the month of January, and then real life starts to happen again and other things start to gain priority or distract me or I realize maybe those things weren’t really things I needed or wanted or had time to do after all.

I recently began working on a “bucket list” journal. I’ve kept a bucket list for five or six years now, adding things every once in a while over the years, things that I know I must do or see or have. I have never changed my mind about anything on the list (with the exception of skydiving…) and the list only gets longer. Some of the things I’ve wanted since I was five or six years old, some of the things have actually happened, or at least half-happened.

So…for 2012, I’ve decided not to make another giant list that may end up tossed aside or stay taped up on my wall to stare at me every day for a year and then make me feel guilty all over again come next December. Instead, I’m going to focus on my bucket list. I’d like to fully accomplish at least two or three of my bucket list dreams. I’m pretty excited…

(A small handful of the dreams…)

November 29, 2011

2011-11-29T23:12:00.000-05:00

For all that has been, thanks. For all that will be, yes.

~Dag Hammarskjold

I know I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: this time of year is what I live for. I begin my countdown on January 1^st to fall and the holiday season. But somehow, I feel like it’s all getting away from me this year…flying by too fast for me to really revel in it and appreciate it. Or maybe I have just been doing an especially bad job of living in the moment and have been letting it all slip by unnoticed.

This week I’ve been reading through so many blogs and tweets and Facebook updates talking about things people are thankful for. It’s been beautiful and inspiring, and it has also made me realize that I’ve been neglecting keeping up with my own many blessings in all the hustle and bustle and getting ahead of myself lately. I meant to take some pictures over the holiday and give a little update about my own thanks-giving, but, as seems to be my habit lately, I just couldn’t seem to find the time. So instead, I made a list of one hundred things that I’ve been thankful for, or appreciated (or forgotten to appreciate), or loved, or been inspired by in the last week or so. And I really did feel truly thankful when I came to number one hundred, and realized I could have kept going for quite some time…

1. My family: Mom, Dad, Ty, Michaela, Micah, Jasmine, and Honour.

2. Friendships. Those that I’m just building, those that I’m working to re-kindle, and those that have been around for ages.

3. My mom’s homemade mashed potatoes.

4. And her secret recipe apple pie.

5. Yoda, the cat.
6. A big shelf of books.
7. A warm and sunny weekend.
8. A fireplace at my family’s house (and the open invitation to come use it all winter…).
9. Free music.
10. Opportunity.
11. A warm apartment.
12. The fact that the children I teach love using glitter for art projects as much as I do…
13. A job…even if it is really hard sometimes.
14. Endless possibilities…
15. A big sale on Dr. Pepper at Target…
16. And my dad’s willingness to drive me back home after the holiday so I could transport it all after stocking up.
17. Great landlords…a rare thing in this city.
18. Christmas tree-scented candles.
19. Health.
20. The freedom to make my own choices.
21. Twinkle lights in all the New York City trees.
22. Twinkle lights all over my room.
23. All the 146 Poems of Love contributors (update coming very soon…).
24. Art supplies.
25. Netflix.
26. Hershey’s Candy Cane Kisses.
27. Working WiFi.
28. Good poetry.
29. Good writing.
30. Inspiring ideas.
31. Encouraging words.
32. Pizza.
33. Europe…and the dream of being there one day.
34. Good deals.
35. Patience.
36. Clorox wipes.
37. A few vacation days…with more on the way!
38. Common sense (most of the time…).
39. Handwritten letters.
40. Mystery and magic and wonder.
41. Happy memories.
42. Old photographs.
43. Horses.
44. Thick, cozy scarves.
45. Fingerless gloves.
46. Escalators.
47. Christmas tree lots.
48. Apple cider.
49. Advil.
50. The New York City skyline.
51. Snow.
52. Starbucks’ holiday cups…even if I don’t drink their coffee.
53. Christmas music.
54. Christmas movies.
55. Burt’s Bees chapstick.
56. The tiny little (sparkly) Christmas tree from my mom (that I am desperately trying to keep alive).
57. Silence.
58. The sound of bells (especially sleigh bells).
59. Comfort.
60. The stars.
61. Really crunchy leaves on the ground.
62. Goals and dreams.
63. Good people.
64. The color red.
65. Options.
66. Clean water to drink.
67. Children’s stories.
68. The bravery of those around me.
69. The Dictionary.
70. Forgiveness.
71. Staying up late because I’m too excited or inspired or entertained or happy to sleep…
72. …And then getting to sleep in a little late.
73. Board games.
74. An education.
75. Italian restaurants.
76. Discovering others who also hate the Kindle/Nook/fake books…
77. Train rides.
78. Accomplishing something.
79. Sparkly nailpolish.
80. Kindness.
81. Christmas secrets.
82. Clean laundry.
83. Unexpected surprises.
84. Super cozy star pj pants from Gap on a big sale (I could only find them online in the maternity section, but they have them in stores in non-maternity sizes).
85. Funny, witty people.
86. The sound of a saxophone being played on a New York City sidewalk.
87. Another new beginning each morning when I wake up.
88. Inside jokes.
89. Postcards.
90. Deep breaths.
91. Remembering with someone.
92. A really good notebook.
93. Small miracles.
94. Old hymns.
95. Waffles.
96. The giant pile of pillows on my bed.
97. Daydreams.
98. Flip-flops (even in the winter time…).
99. The sky.

100. Hope.

11.11.11 (make a wish...)

2011-11-11T16:41:00.000-05:00

I know there are still 43 days ‘til Christmas, but I’ve been celebrating for several weeks now…

Yoda (my naughty cat) is preventing me from buying a real tree this year, but my tiny bedroom has been filled with holiday cheer and that Christmas tree smell anyway thanks to Yankee Candle’s “Home for Christmas”…(After Christmas 2010 the votives went on sale at Target for about thirty cents and I stocked up!)

And this week’s favorite (and probably very over-played) Christmas albums to keep my holly jolly spirit up: Chuck E. Costa’s “All is Calm”, Hanson’s “Snowed In”, Annie Lennox’s “Christmas Cornucopia”, Sting’s “If on a Winter’s Night”, Over the Rhine’s “Snow Angel”, and “Christmas with Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra”.

Next on the list to keep my heart and home filled with Christmas joy…tracking down some Hershey’s Candy Cane Kisses and cutting out more snowflakes to hold me over ‘til the real stuff comes…

November 1, 2011

2011-11-01T22:12:00.000-04:00

November is National Novel Writing Month. And because I have severely neglected my own writing for the past several months, I have decided to unofficially participate. I have had a book – or the general idea of one – waiting within me for over a year now, and I have successfully put off actually beginning it for way too long. I had planned on completing at least 100 pages of it by the end of 2011 as one of my resolutions, but alas, the first page has still not grown beyond a paragraph or two.

So, rather than complete an entire novel, my November writing goal is to complete one hundred full, 12pt font, Microsoft Word documents by 11:59pm on November 30^th. And tonight, to begin it all, I will complete page one…

October 30, 2011

2011-10-30T13:31:00.000-04:00

Braved the storm (for Target…) with one of my best friends @Moore_Megan.

Happy October snow day!

October 23, 2011

2011-10-23T21:18:00.000-04:00

It has been awhile…

Enjoying the beauty of NYC in the fall…the cooler weather is here to stay. Green leaves are slowly shifting into yellows, oranges, and reds. There are pumpkins…everywhere. And Christmas music has begun to find its way onto my playlists…

I am also missing my little brother.

The thing I love about Ty is that when he decides he wants to do something, he does it. He began telling people when he was five that he would move to Africa one day to help the people there.

And a couple weeks ago he left for Liberia to help build a school for a very poor community. It was a beautiful thing watching him make his dream come to life over the last several months, finally doing what he believes he was always meant to do.

It is a brave and scary thing. But there is no feeling quite like accomplishing something you have wanted more than anything else. It is inspiring.

He began a blog about the adventure though he has very limited internet access so it isn’t updated too often.

He is also currently working with a different project than his site says, so if you’d like to get more news or would like to donate, contact me (not the organization listed on the blog) and I will put you on his mailing list and/or give you the correct info for donations…

October 2, 2011

2011-10-02T22:20:00.000-04:00

My new writing buddy, Yoda.

146 Poems of Love update: Most notifications have been sent out…I fell a bit behind schedule this past week and there are still a few left…I will be sending those in the next couple days (really!)…Thank you for your patience!

And thank you so much again to everyone who has been a part of this project! I feel so blessed to have had the opportunity to read your stories and see your beautiful work. I will continue to post updates here (and on Twitter: www.twitter.com/its_just_am) about the project as it progresses…

August 29, 2011

2011-08-29T19:09:00.000-04:00

Every Monday morning before I get to my classroom, my co-teacher gathers all the pencils, sharpens them, and leaves them in a neat bundle on the counter. It is a lovely sight, and I manage to find excuses all day long to jot small notes and lists and reminders, just so I can try each one. There is nothing quite like writing with a perfectly sharpened pencil… Such a happy thing.

August 22, 2011

2011-08-22T20:59:00.000-04:00

I had the honor of being a guest blogger this weekend on wishstudio…It’s a wonderful site full of tips, resources, and inspiration for artists and writers. I am so thankful for another opportunity to spread the word about the 146 Poems of Love project. You can read my post here…

August 18, 2011

2011-08-18T22:42:00.002-04:00

I remember when the whales had wings, she said. Whatever happened? I said. It got to be too noisy with all the airplanes & other stuff, so they flew into the ocean & never came back. Some days, she added, I think about going too. ~ Andreas (www.storypeople.com)

Spent a lovely weekend away from NYC visiting my family…Rhode Island was a state I always found easy to forget, but not after an evening at one of its beaches. Drove through a tiny seaside town afterward, and caught a glimpse of the “River Glow” festival that was happening…Live music, horse-drawn wagon rides, and tiny bonfires floating down the Pawcatuck river… Enchanting.

River Glow photo taken from here.

August 7, 2011

2011-08-07T19:21:00.000-04:00

I’ve had a real problem with distraction lately…Finding silence in the city that never sleeps has been harder than usual. I should be banned from Facebook and Solitaire forever.

So…the newest someday-dream: Get a membership to a writer’s work space…

One of my favorites is Paragraph. A bit pricey, and I heard there’s quite a waiting list, but it seems pretty much distraction-free, AND it has a spiral staircase leading up to shelves of books - if that couldn’t make a person write, I don’t think anything could…

July 14, 2011

2011-07-14T23:48:00.000-04:00

“For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream…”

~Vincent van Gogh

* * *

I was once again inspired by Lissy Elle’s photography…

Loved her wall of stars and decided to start creating my own indoor starry night…

July 1, 2011

2011-07-01T09:49:00.000-04:00

Found these writing tips on the WishStudio blog written by Christine Mason Miller. She also wrote a great little piece on being rejected…

Ten Tips & Resources to Deepen Your Writing Practice by Christine Mason Miller

1. Write. Write more.

2. Be willing to write badly ~ sometimes it takes some slogging to get to the good stuff. Trust me, I’ve written loads of gunk.

3. www.pw.org ~ This is the Poets & Writers website, billed as “the nation’s largest non-profit organization serving creative writers.” They have interviews, articles, writing tools, and a database of small presses, literary magazines, and writing contests.

4. Submit. Submit more. Worried about being rejected? Read this.

5. Read Journal of a Solitude by May Sarton.

6. Enroll in an online workshop with Maya Stein, or take one of Laurie Wagner’s Traveling Writers Workshops.

7. Feeling stuck? Go for a walk.

8. Spend ten minutes writing down any and every memory that comes into your mind, using just a few words for each description. Which one are you most drawn to? Which one are you resisting? Explore both.

9. Scope out what is available in your community ~ university extension classes, community colleges, adult education courses, writing groups, etc.

10. Write what you want to write, what you feel deeply compelled to write. Let go of trying to figure out what will sell, what could be published, how to get published, how to find an agent, what “the public” will like. Write from your heart, and write honestly.

June 25, 2011

2011-06-25T22:22:00.000-04:00

My most recent favorite find: Kylie Johnson’s poetry. Found her two books (“count me the stars” and “a once courageous heart”) at Anthropologie this past weekend. I only intended to buy one, but I just couldn’t help myself after falling completely in love with the first one. I am now the owner of both and wish she had a dozen more… She’s the perfect example of turning the empty spaces between words into art.

She also makes poetic pottery:

146 Poems of Love update: I will begin sending out notifications this weekend! Keep in mind that because the deadline was extended to September 1^st I will be sending notifications as late as the end of September. I know many of you were expecting to hear within the month of June (the original deadline), so I am going to do my best to get a good chunk sent out soon, but it is a slow process. I am overwhelmed by the beauty and love that has flooded my inbox, and because I am getting new submissions every day I want to be able to take the time to fully examine each piece and make sure the right ones go into the book. Again, thank you SO MUCH to all of you who have taken the time to help spread the word and submit! You’re awesome.

June 11, 2011

2011-06-11T22:16:00.002-04:00

Anyone who knows me will tell you I am more than a little obsessed with things that are fairytale-ish, starry, whimsical, sparkly, and sky-filled. So when I found Lissy Elle’s photography I instantly fell in love…

May 30, 2011

2011-05-30T19:30:00.000-04:00

It is officially rainbow-sprinkle-ice-cream-cone-from-an-ice-cream-truck season…

and that is a very happy thing.

May 22, 2011

2011-05-22T22:27:00.000-04:00

Recently discovered 'Do Not Look At The Sun'... a small magazine of "misfit lit"...which is what I usually feel most of my writing ends up being...Lots of random lines of poetry, remembered dreams, diary entries, bits of art...a little of everything. They're like artistic journals meant for more than one set of eyes.

The project began in Paris, where the creators left copies in parks, cafes, and other public places for people passing by to find. They're slowly expanding and you can now subscribe and buy past issues online. I have yet to get my hands on a hard copy, but the pages they've posted online are super fun to read. Love it.

May 15, 2011

2011-05-15T14:55:00.000-04:00

Submission deadline has been extended!

I’m receiving many inquiries about the 146 Poems of Love project and submissions are still pouring in, so I’ve decided to extend the submission deadline to September 1, 2011.

I will still begin to send out notifications during the month of June for those of you who have submitted in the last few months. However, if you submit after the original deadline (June 1), please allow more time for notification.

Once all notifications have been sent I will provide more information on the estimated publication date.

Again, thank you to everyone who has been a part of building this book with me. I am so excited to see how it continues to grow over the next few months!

Love protects. Love defends. Love restores. Love empowers.

May 10, 2011

2011-05-10T23:42:00.000-04:00

May 9, 2011

2011-05-09T00:07:00.001-04:00

"All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother."

~Abraham Lincoln

May 1, 2011

2011-05-01T00:15:00.000-04:00

I’ve been re-inspired lately by one of my favorite artists/writers… SABRINA WARD HARRISON. Her books are beautiful, comforting, honest, and filled with awesome collage-style photos, art, and journal entries. Every page is worthy of framing on the wall, and if I wasn’t such a book-lover, I might tear the pages out and do just that.

Hoping there will be another new book soon…

April 20, 2011

2011-04-20T20:31:00.000-04:00

Missing Texas tonight…

photo by ajsnow

April 16, 2011

2011-04-16T20:46:00.000-04:00

Rediscovered this poem a couple nights ago…a professor read it to my class a few years ago and I fell in love. Thought National Poetry Month would be the perfect excuse to share it…

Moon, Horses, and Groundfog

A corner of dream opened

into night-soft ring

of the bell mare, close

to the open shelter where I slept.

                                                           A low fog had moved up from the river,
                                                           and the dark shapes of horses grazed
                                                           knee-deep in silvery light.

In the hazy reach between sleep

and waking,

I was among them, tasting the fog

that was our ground. It was cool,

and smelled of leafmulch,

of dampened ash,

and the slow breath of a glacier.

The moon stood still in a spruce tree,

and the sound of the river

moved away over polished stones.

I was midpoint on a journey

I had forgotten I'd begun,

and the dust of winter stars

covered the empty shoes beside me.

~Tim McNulty

from In Blue Mountain Dusk, Broken Moon Press, 1992

April 5, 2011

2011-04-05T00:14:00.000-04:00

She is like a bird

caught beneath the forest boughs,
tangled and bruised,

with no space to fly.

She is starting to forget

the home she left behind,
beyond the shadows,
in the deep blue of the sky.

She settles on a dying limb,

no wind left to carry her.

love146.org

146 Poems of Love

March 20, 2011

2011-03-20T00:23:00.000-04:00

New York and I have a rocky relationship.

There are days when dirty streets, rat-infested, dark, smelly subway stations, constant noise, no room to walk on the sidewalks, having to spend long draining work hours chasing eleven three year olds and then feeling too tired to work on my REAL career, insanely high prices (I had to pay $3 for a bottle of water the other day...THREE DOLLARS!) and being unable to pay the bills, grumpy people, ridiculously good looking model people, high maintenance people, angry cab driver people, etc. etc. etc. make me want to hightail it back to those big empty fields I first left. Find peace again. Find silence. Find sky and stars.

And then there are those other days... those days filled with complete disbelief and elation that I am really finally here after all those years of wishing for it. Days when I realize that, my god it's tough to live here and not always what I expected, but those little moments that exceed expectation make it so, so worth it. Days filled with the sounds of saxophones on the city streets, just like in the movies. Nights walking downtown when I am suddenly met with those incredibly bright lights of Times Square that never cease to amaze. The daily discovery of something new, something unique, something I have never seen before. Tiny hole-in-the-wall restaurants with the greatest fettuccine alfredo of your life. Obscure bars and cafes featuring bands playing music you were meant to fall in love with. And so many people with so much talent: everywhere, inescapable, inspiring.

Tonight was one of those nights. a re-realization that I am here, and this is my life now, and these moments are incredible and fleeting.

March 7, 2011

2011-03-07T21:40:00.001-05:00

This turned my Monday around...written by the brilliant Linford Detweiler of Over the Rhine.

I'm up here in the attic of the Grey Ghost, the rest of the house is asleep, and I'm looking out the window on an unremarkable morning, stunned. I have found the secret of eternal life. I now know how I want to live and it's so obvious I don't know if I should risk telling you this secret or not, but I will. Before I can talk myself down.

I am going to die.

These few words, if I embrace them, will tell me what I must do with this gift of too-large life I've been given. Oh, but it's so hard to hear. I have to practice.

I am going to die. I, am going to die.

All of us here on this sweet terrain are terminal. I hold these words close and I am free.

I'm thirty-five, so by the law of averages I figure my life is half over. Half of my life is virgin soil, untouched by any plow. Amazing. I was given a garden and I've only tilled up half of it. I was given a day, and the entire night remains intact, unlived. I was given a woman and she is only half undressed. The bottle of wine, half empty. The book, half written.

The desire to write burns in me now like the burning bush Moses encountered in the wilderness: it burns in me always but is not consumed. I want to leave behind some token of gratitude for the time here on earth I was given. I want to tell my version of what it was like to be part of this family we call humanity. I want to say, Hey, I saw that. (Did anyone else?) It's one of the few gifts I can imagine giving to myself. It's one of the few gifts I can imagine giving to others.

Half over? And now life ups the ante and says, I am dimensional and careening and full of surprises. No man or woman knows me. No man or woman knows the day or the hour when the needle lifts from a particular spinning life, when the music ceases quite suddenly to play audibly. All quiet.

In other words, I can't say for sure that I've only travelled half the distance. I may be farther along and further in than I know. So to live a good day is to live that day as if it were my last. This key can unlock the double-bolted door of what it means to be truly alive. Or as my friend Jack is prone to say, It's our last night on earth. Again.

So yes, somedays I flounder and lay about in the mud like a hog on valium. And I don't know why some days are so hard to redeem, to cash in. God looks down and says, This one's on me son. Enjoy. It's the gift of a brand new day or night and you'd think I'd make love to this day and we'd ride off into the sunset together, and I'd lean over and say, I'll never forget you. Ever.

But maybe the day sits yawning out in the car while I'm standing in line at the bank with a fistfull of unpaid bills. Or the wistful new day walks in and her skin is glowing, she's lighting up the whole world and I'm thinking about filing my taxes, one of the cats just threw up, and the answering machine is full, blinking. The day wants to be swept off her feet and sometimes the best I can come up with is surfing the channels in some hotel room, half awake. Or maybe the day whispers, I came all this way for you, and it's a drive-thru for dinner?

But when I hold the given words close, which I do now increasingly, I become a student of life. I am given clues always now, and I try to listen. And the mundane begins to bleed together into a larger sense of purpose which I continue to discover. Somedays I choose wisely, the hours are my lovers and I am heartened. The rest of the time, I forgive myself and try to smile. I am going to die. But I'm also going to live for awhile.

Be inspired. And happy Monday.

February 28, 2011

2011-02-28T22:09:00.002-05:00

I am the snow queen. Anyone who knows me knows that I spend ¾ of the year waiting for snow season. HOWEVER, I must finally admit that after dealing with what seems like a hundred feet of snow in the past two or three months, I am maybe, kinda ready for a little break. That’s right, I want the snow to melt, and I WANT SPRING. In fact, I am getting quite desperate for it. I think I have forgotten what the sun looks and feels like. The beginning of March brings some hope, but I remember winters past when the snow managed to sneak back in as late as April. I guess I can’t get too excited yet. To keep my spirits up I’ve decided to track the small signs of coming spring, and today’s sign: it was the first day in longer than I can remember when it was warm enough to leave the scarf, hat, and gloves at home. That’s right, JUST A COAT! It was a very happy thing...

***

For those of you wanting to help spread the word about the 146 Poems of Love project, here’s a link to a downloadable flyer:

FLYER

I’ve also posted it on the 146Poems page. If you want to let others know about the project, make some copies and put them on telephone poles, in your college writing/arts department, in your favorite coffee shop, or hand them out to your friends.

And THANK YOU to all of you who have been submitting! Each submission feels like a gift. I feel so blessed to be able to read and view so many wonderful pieces.

***

Check out Empire Builder , a site that has been kind enough to join in spreading the word about this project. It's got some great stuff for people who love poetry...

February 20, 2011

2011-02-20T14:08:00.000-05:00

Friday night was filled with nothing short of pure music magic. The Civil Wars performed at Rockwood Music Hall in NYC and it was brilliant. You know you’re hearing something special when every song makes you feel like laughing and crying and sighing happy sighs and then you find your face hurts at the end of it all because you haven’t stopped smiling.

Their album is wonderful. Their live performance was even better. I can’t wait for next time.

Get the album (trust me). And if you'd like a taste of their live stuff, you can get this FREE live recording.

February 16, 2011

2011-02-16T22:37:00.000-05:00

February 5, 2011

2011-02-05T14:48:00.001-05:00

It’s been a rather crafty weekend… While I enjoy the idea of pages of poetry and stories scattered around my room, the reality of it can make maneuvering around a very tiny NYC bedroom difficult. So, I bought some plain wooden binders at Target and spent a couple hours having a lot of fun with glue. Here are some of the results so far…

January 31, 2011

2011-01-31T21:16:00.000-05:00

I’ve started receiving the first submissions for 146 Poems of Love (yay!). I’ve also posted a couple of updates on the 146Poems page:

*For those of you submitting: I will notify you within one month of the submission deadline at the very latest. If you haven’t heard from me by June 30th, please feel free to email.

*Please note that there will not be any monetary compensation for those accepted for publication, but you will receive a free copy of the book.

I will continue to post more details and updates on this blog and on the 146Poems page, so check back. Also, email me if you have any questions or want more info on the project.

* * *

In other news…

I just had my haiku published in Poetry for the Masses! It’s a great project that posts poetry in public places to reach people who might not normally read poetry. You can also read their stuff on their new website. Here’s a link to my poem in the new February issue…

January 27, 2011

2011-01-27T15:37:00.000-05:00

I’ve been thinking pink lately. Here are a few of my new favorite things...

A pink vintage typewriter. Awesome.

Sparkly pink clothespins. Adorable.

Hidden heart ring. Sweet.

My birthday cake: funfetti cake, strawberry icing, and an entire bottle of rainbow sprinkles. (Thanks mom!) Delicious.

*146 Poems of Love update coming soon*

January 16, 2011

2011-01-16T19:16:00.000-05:00

I have finally posted the details of the book project I am working on this year: 146 Poems of Love. You can read the specifics and all the submission guidelines under the 146Poems tab above. The project was inspired by the organization Love146 which works toward ending child slavery and exploitation, and a portion of the proceeds from book sales will be donated to the organization.

I am so excited to watch this project grow through your contributions and as it develops over the next few months I’ll be posting updates through this blog.

Please check it out, spread the word, and submit!

January 10, 2011

2011-01-10T23:09:00.001-05:00

I know I'm a bit behind schedule...still finalizing the details of the special project. I'm very excited to share the details SOON and I hope everyone will want to get involved.

In the meantime, check this out:

December 31, 2010

2010-12-31T01:02:00.005-05:00

Guess what? I AM STILL HERE. As it turns out, I am just terrible at blogging. Luckily, it is the perfect time of year to make some goals, and keeping up with Once Upon a Time is one of mine.
Strange to think that this year is already coming to a close. I can't seem to prevent having a minor panic attack each year on December 31st. I never feel fully ready to let go of another year of my life, and never really feel completely prepared to enter a new one. 2011 arrives in less than ten hours. Time (and the fact that I can't slow it down) can be a little scary, though there is something quite beautiful and exciting about the idea of another new beginning.

On another note, I have a super special project coming up for 2011 and I will be needing help from some of you fellow writers out there...I'll be unveiling more details later this week, so stay tuned...

Merry Christmas (a little late), and a very Happy New Year!

November 16, 2010

2010-11-16T21:22:00.006-05:00

This very giant, very ugly desk was left behind at the apartment I rent. I fell in love with it immediately and knew it just needed a little love...

Before

...and After

(Although this picture really isn't flattering...it's darker and less orange in person, stacked with books, and surrounded by a couple hundred white twinkle lights...)

It's an old desk and I was having so much trouble finding pretty new drawer pulls that fit, so I went with velvet ribbon instead... Now I don't have to feel guilty (or go broke) if I change my mind and decide to switch it up again later on...

When I sit down at my writing desk, time seems to vanish. I think it's a wonderful way to spend one's life. ~Erica Jong

November 6, 2010

2010-11-06T17:53:00.015-04:00

Found my new favorite NYC spot...

Cafe Lalo on the UWS. Adorable. Sweet, lovely desserts. And twinkle lights up year-round.

HOWEVER... I'm pretty sure the very best part about the place is that it appeared in one of my all-time favorite movies: You've Got Mail. You know the scene where 'Shopgirl' goes to meet 'NY152' with the single red rose and a copy of Pride and Prejudice and she thinks he stood her up but really it was Joe Fox all along...? Ah yes, Cafe Lalo is just one more very good reason to love NY...

October 21, 2010

2010-10-21T22:47:00.004-04:00

October 18, 2010

2010-10-18T22:46:00.013-04:00

Wow. It has been a really, really long time.

The past few weeks have been more than a little crazy here in New York City. After renewing the lease on my lovely apartment, my roommate and I spent days on end cleaning and revamping the place in preparation for our two new roommates getting ready to move in. It was far from fun. It was man stuff. Replacing light fixtures, hauling trash, putting shelves together, hammering, bolting, and wrenching all sorts of things, including a toilet seat (ew). We ate Texas burgers with bacon and got a little high off paint and Clorox fumes. At the end of the madness we topped it off with a total man movie: Jackass 3D. We sat among dozens of high school boys and college frat boys and a few girls that I would rather not meet in a dark alley. Awkward. The show was full of crude, foul-mouthed, man-nakedness and vomit, but I must admit, I laughed way more than I expected to.

So yes, these past weeks were a little rough. And so, once the work was done, I decided it was time to take an extra long weekend and enjoy some loveliness with my family in Connecticut. The weekend was full of Christmas music, Panera bread bowls, homemade pumpkin chocolate chip muffins, lots of time spent in the candle department of Target smelling things named “Fireside”, “Falling Leaves”, and “Cozy Cabin”, apple cider, walks through extra crunchy leaves, too many episodes of Jonas with my little sisters, pumpkins, grey autumn skies, more and more listening to Mumford & Sons, and a long bike ride through fall foliage-filled woods with one of my very best friends.

This snake attempted to make me fall off my bike by slithering in front of me on the trail. I thought I ran over it, but it didn’t seem to care and continued to move way too quickly for comfort…

The last few days have been such a nice break from the craziness of work, the apartment repairs, and the city, but I realized tonight that I have still not found time to do one of the main things I set this time aside for: writing. It is one thing to neglect a blog for so long, but another to neglect writing all together. It is what I crave. What I need to do to keep myself from getting too grumpy. It is also such hard work. However, I cannot let this four day weekend go to waste. I am leaving this blog once again to go set pen to paper for awhile, but I promise it won’t be another month before you hear from me again.

Have I mentioned how happy I am that it is autumn?

September 15, 2010

2010-09-15T21:18:00.004-04:00

I made it my New Year's resolution this year to submit my poems and short stories/essays to at least three different literary journals each month. That means about 36 opportunities to be published and gain experience and recognition. Or, in my case (so far), PLENTY of opportunities for rejection and reality checks. Well, a few months ago I had an online journal show interest in one of my poems. I was freaking out. But, I never heard back from them and nothing came of it...until TODAY. That's right, I HAVE OFFICIALLY BEEN PUBLISHED. Woohoo!! It's a poem I wrote about Texas, the place I lived for ten years and still consider home. An awesome online journal called Word Riot picked it up, and after months of blood, sweat and tears (okay, mostly just tears every time I opened my mailbox and email account to see the big "R" word at the top of a batch of poems...) I am very happy to share this day of celebration with you.

***

You can read it here: OH HAPPY DAY

***

(And they even included my "airhead, noodlehead on drugs" bio... which I would like to dedicate to Professor C who convinced me to keep working with this poem after I thought I'd just let it go...)

September 12, 2010

2010-09-12T11:06:00.006-04:00

This song makes me really, really happy...

September 8, 2010

2010-09-08T08:46:00.004-04:00

I know I've neglected this blog this past week. I swear I had every intention of sitting down these last few days to share something deeply profound with you all...but frankly, I got a little distracted... Mmmbop!!

September 1, 2010

2010-09-01T09:13:00.009-04:00

It is September. This means one thing: everything I love is about to begin.

Fall. Colder weather (I hope). Hoodies. Leaves changing color. Snow. Fireplaces. Thanksgiving, and then Christmas, and then New Year’s…(which all mean more excuses to see my family, and there aren't many things better than taking a train ride to New Haven in the fall to see people you really like a lot). Hot chocolate and apple cider. Pumpkins. Fairs. New school supplies (after pining for new pencils and notebooks for a few weeks now, I have decided that I do not actually need to be IN school to enjoy these things). My list goes on and on. I’ll spare you.

Fall is wonderful. I wish there was a place in this world that had year-round fall. I would move there tonight. And NYC in the fall is close to perfect (it just needs more trees). The atmosphere changes into something so alive and brisk and expectant… Watch You’ve Got Mail and you’ll understand.

September has put me in pretty high spirits, and so I decided to sit down this week and do a little work on one of the many books I keep talking about writing one day. I mean, I finally started this blog, right? Why not start a book, too?

I got one and a half paragraphs in. And getting there was pretty painful. I finally had to sit on my hands to keep myself from lying down on the backspace. Thank God I keep Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird within an arm lengths away at all times. I think I read her chapter on shitty first drafts two dozen times. So, after sitting on my hands and after a lot of reading, I continued on. Wrote a few more paragraphs until actual pages started to form, and have decided to let it go. I can always edit. I CAN ALWAYS EDIT. And the backspace isn’t going anywhere anytime soon…(we hope).

If you haven’t read Bird by Bird, do. It will change your life as a writer. Or at least inspire you. Or, if nothing else at all, it might keep you from throwing away every last piece of paper with your own writing on it (I knew I might have a problem when even my 'notes to self' and shopping lists were starting to make me angry). I keep Lamott’s words up on my wall:

A good reminder to take things day by day, paragraph by paragraph, word by word.

Happy end of summer. Happy almost autumn. The best of 2010 is on its way…

August 29, 2010

2010-08-29T00:15:00.003-04:00

Midnight in New York City
neglects
starlight and
mutes all calm with
horns and sirens and the
pounding of hidden
trains forever running
on a fated track,
riding in eternal artificial darkness...
I wonder if they miss the
night sky, too.

August 25, 2010

2010-08-25T22:43:00.003-04:00

Another beautiful evening...

August 22, 2010 (This one's for you, Mom)

2010-08-22T22:10:00.013-04:00

I spent this past weekend discovering Christmas in unexpected places...

My friend and I found a shop on 7th Avenue devoted entirely to Christmas... YEAR-ROUND.

And Michaels has begun stocking its Christmas craft items:

jingle bells, wreaths, mini trees, rows and rows of red ribbon, deer (very gold and slightly disturbing deer, but still very Christmasy), and more sparkly things than even I would know what to do with...

It was exciting. And lovely. And while I have PROMISED myself not to pull out the tunes until October 1st, I'm pretty sure I heard an instrumental rendition of 'Silent Night' coming from my roommates' room the other evening and, I must admit, I let myself listen for a little while.
I am all for living in the moment and not wishing away these warm, lazy summer days, but there's just something about the beginnings of fall and colder weather, and knowing Christmas won't be far behind... I find sometimes I just can't help myself:

124 days.

August 17, 2010

2010-08-17T20:37:00.002-04:00

August 15, 2010

2010-08-15T17:11:00.020-04:00

I met up with my brother and his friend this week for a day in NYC and a Grizzly Bear concert. We watched a mustached man swallow a sword, a man with a tattooed face managed to hand out a lot of flyers to my very kind brother, we experienced Shake Shack for the first time (wicked good burgers), and rode the elevators at the Marriott (don’t judge until you, too, have experienced those speeding bullets of tourist-filled terror). We also went to Pop-Tarts World. Yes, that’s right. Here are some of the bits of (real) conversation I heard inside…

“It smells like a fresh Pop-Tart!”
“Honey, get on line to order. You can get something all Pop-Tarty!” (This was not said sarcastically)
“Wow. They have like all the Pop-Tarts. You can get so many flavors here!” (I believe this is also called Wal-Mart)
“Oooh! They have sushi!”

I will never be the same.

Ty loved Pop-Tarts World. A lot. He ordered the sushi.

By mid-afternoon it was pouring rain, but that was not enough to deter us from our next goal. So, with the extra tiny umbrella we thankfully found lying unclaimed on the Marriott floor (Don’t worry, we did try to find the owner. It was us or the trash.), we honed our tracking skills to find this:

Supposedly it has some of the best (and strangest) ice cream in the country. I was still too full of Shake Shack, but the boys said the sea salt was delicious.

Finally, after a quick ferry ride to Governor’s Island, we were met with the horror of horrors: Gang Gang Dance. Sounded a little like Satan. On drugs. Or my 18 year old cat, Chardonnay, who is… no longer with us (like the audience, two songs in). GGD came fully armed with hisses and cries shrill enough to make you want to swim for Manhattan. And completing the band was a small man who stood on stage waving a garbage bag flag taped to a broom. Epic.
(I apologize to any GGD fans reading this… Maybe their recorded music is better than their live performance. Unfortunately, I may be too scarred to ever find out…)

Then came The Walkmen. Decent.

And finally, Grizzly Bear. I was familiar with some of their music, but not really a fan. Personally, I was completely traumatized after watching a few of their trippy music videos and was sort of nervous.

I am a fan now.

They were enchanting. One of the most beautiful concerts ever. If you can see them live, do. They are worth it.

Too enchanted to take many pictures, but doesn’t it just look magical?

August 11, 2010

2010-08-11T22:08:00.005-04:00

I am slightly obsessed with POSTSECRET. I stay up til midnight every Saturday so that I can read the new batch of "Sunday Secrets" at postsecret.com. A couple years ago I was skimming through one of the books at a Barnes and Noble when something fell into my lap.

A secret.

It is one of the most exciting, honoring, surprising, and burdensome experiences to come into possession of one of these little slips of paper. I've developed the habit of always checking Postsecret books now when I'm in a bookstore. And when I do happen to see a thickness between the pages, or see a flutter of white fall to the floor, I can't help but brace myself for the secret I am about to read.

Many are sad. Some are disturbing or gross. A few are inspiring. The best ones to find are the ones you can relate to. The ones that make you realize you are not alone. That someone else has had similar experiences or feels just like you.

This was my most recent find:

A good reminder, I think.

August 8, 2010

2010-08-08T20:29:00.003-04:00

When do I start to feel like a writer, for real?

Somehow jotting something down on paper every day, playing those “get rid of writer’s block” games, reading and reading and reading about writing… just doesn’t quite seem enough sometimes. What comes next?? It doesn’t seem enough to sit in my little apartment, at midnight, in a city supposedly full of opportunity, penning lame poetry (or blogging…) just to keep my hand warm. Is it even about more than that? Is it really about writing “real books” and getting published? Finding someone who wants to read these things? Or is it just about the experience? The expression and creativity and freedom? The way I feel when the words start to spill? Is that still enough for me?

Most days, I say YES. Yes, it is.

But then there are other days… Days of frustration, worry. Days of cramped hands that shudder at the sight of a pen. Those days I can’t help but wonder.

So much to think about.

So much to write, if the words would just come.

August 6, 2010

2010-08-06T20:10:00.004-04:00

In the process of building on to my wall of inspiration...

...and yes, that is HANSON you see.

August 4, 2010

2010-08-04T09:29:00.003-04:00

Love this...

August 1, 2010

2010-08-01T22:54:00.005-04:00

So I have been staring at my computer for two days now trying to think of something brilliant to share with the world. But, half a case of Dr. Pepper, half a novel (not my own), and the complete second season of Gilmore Girls and … I still have nothing.

This is one of the most frustrating things about writing, and one of the reasons it is so scary to begin the process of making it my life. Writing does not hold any guarantees. While you can (usually) make yourself write something, you cannot make yourself write something good. It is scary to have moments, or days, or weeks, months, YEARS of. . . nothing. And writing is such an agonizingly slow process. It takes so long to sit and think of what to write. Wait for inspiration. Extra long if research or observation is involved. Takes time to edit, rewrite, edit, rewrite, and on and on and on. And then to finally send this never-really-feel-like-it's-finished work on to someone and wait more months to hear if maybe they actually like it, actually want to read it, maybe want others to read it, too, enough to consider publishing it. So much time. So much work. And no guarantees.

It’s all so risky. Uncertain. Scary. Especially for someone who is not always very patient. And not always very good at taking risks.

But I write anyway. I Sit. Wait. Play a little solitaire. Grab another Dr. Pepper. Tap my pen. Sometimes for hours. And then write a little more. Because I love it. And I am crazy enough to believe that all this risk and all this “sharing pieces of myself” and all this patience is going to be worth it... Is worth it.

July 30, 2010

2010-07-30T09:16:00.003-04:00

"Writers don't make any money at all. We make about a dollar. It is terrible. But then again we don't work either. We sit around in our underwear until noon then go downstairs and make coffee, fry some eggs, read the paper, read part of a book, smell the book, wonder if perhaps we ourselves should work on our book, smell the book again, throw the book across the room because we are quite jealous that any other person wrote a book, feel terribly guilty about throwing the schmuck's book across the room because we secretly wonder if God in heaven noticed our evil jealousy, or worse, our laziness. We then lie across the couch facedown and mumble to God to forgive us because we are secretly afraid He is going to dry up all our words because we envied another man's stupid words. And for this, as I said before, we are paid a dollar. We are worth so much more."

~Donald Miller

Blue Like Jazz

July 28, 2010

2010-07-28T21:38:00.008-04:00

This site is, in a word, AWESOME. I would share some of the entries, but my post would become a little long. There are too many good ones.

1000awesomethings.com

Check it out.

I visit this site often, especially on days like today...

I woke up this morning super excited because tomorrow is Friday. Already almost the weekend! Then I got to work and realized... it is Wednesday. And it did not begin as a particularly good Wednesday either, even after I got over the initial disappointment of it not being Thursday. My class of two and three year olds conspired early this morning to make my day extra "special," and I'm pretty sure the rest of New York City was in on it, too.

However, I decided to find the awesome in this Wednesday and not let it go to waste...

1. Cheap Dr. Pepper

2. A new email from my sister
3. Playing in a sprinkler... and getting paid for it.
4. Having my class mistake a policeman stopping traffic in the street today for the President and begin screaming "IT'S HIM! IT'S HIM! IT'S MR. OBAMA!!" (I think the officer thought this was pretty awesome, also.)
5. Free pizza during a meeting tonight.
6. An almost empty bus ride home. (Where to sit? So many choices!!)
7. Getting to wear flipflops all day.
8. My view tonight (see the picture a few posts down).
9. Realizing that tomorrow I get to rethink the "tomorrow is Friday" thoughts from this morning... for real this time.

Happy Wednesday, everyone.

And I hope you all find something totally awesome in your day, too...

July 26, 2010

2010-07-26T22:33:00.012-04:00

To continue with the weekend's theme of sometimes sucky jobs I thought I'd share an essay I wrote a couple years ago during another one of my short-lived careers... as a barista.

* * *

If you are an addict in need of a fix, I am the one to come to. I can make a latte in under two minutes, grind beans and brew an entire pot of coffee in under 4 minutes, and whip up the egg and cheese bagel with a cappuccino breakfast special in five. Three coffee shops. Three years. Expert barista. I have mastered the techniques of preparing the ultimate cup of java. However, catering to the world of caffeine addicts has forced me to come into contact with some of the world’s most desperate and edgy customers, and has taught me the people skills I need to deal with just about anyone.

Coffee shop #1, New Haven, Connecticut. It was the mini Mecca of political, social, and religious debates, and was host to the city’s liberal professors and working mothers.

Sam wandered in, 2:00pm as usual, long black trench coat moist with the fall drizzle. I already had his mug of black French roast waiting for him on the counter. He settled into the nearest corner and opened the paper, commenting on intriguing articles and asking me what my plans were when I graduated while I wiped down the counter. Jim came in soon after. He ordered his small, dry cappuccino and sat down next to his friend. Sam put his newspaper down, eager for today’s debate with his professor friend. Today’s topic: the pros and cons of foreign cars and comparing their grown children’s accomplishments. Jim and Sam went back and forth, Jim’s bushy grey mustache catching some of the foam in his drink as he sipped in between his input.

My boss came in with a new shipment of beans. She was a small Italian woman who usually began most of the debates that accompanied each day in the shop, and had no problem putting down what she was doing to join an overheard conversation. She would often stand over the counter to shake her finger at the customers who obviously had it all wrong. She was a proud feminist and Democrat in her late fifties and was a second mother to all the regulars who wandered in daily.

This shop taught me two things: the beauty of a neighborhood family, and how to keep my mouth shut in the middle of a heated discussion among professors, liberals, feminists, and angry mothers in a space not much bigger than a large closet.

Coffee shop #2, Van, Texas. It was the first espresso based coffee shop in the area and a second home to the area’s crazy zealot teens and old cowboys who thought the ‘ch’ in mocha was pronounced the way it looks, and that a ‘latte’ was a ‘lottie’. It was host to the typical southern stereotypes: slow and easy drawls, big hair, cowboy hats, and hardcore Republican Christians. And yet, the sweet, hospitable, and polite Southern dispositions that usually went along with these characteristics were somehow missing. Unlike Coffee Shop #1, those that came in did not confess their opinions point-blank, but instead, tried to find clever, creative ways to convey their points. However, the points were often conveyed a lot less inconspicuously than the customers assumed.

One afternoon a woman that I had never seen before came in. As I stood there making her mocha, I could see her staring at me unashamedly from over the espresso machine. Finally, tapping her finger to her lips, she asked me if I had anything brown in my closet. I did. She proceeded to tell me that because of my red hair and pale complexion, I should be wearing brown. Apparently, the black shirt I was wearing was not my color and I would look much nicer in a dark chestnut, according to the color wheel. The color wheel was never wrong. I do not know what a color wheel is, but I do know that you should not criticize a barista while they hold your mocha in their hand. (She only thought that was foam she tasted.) I decided that maybe the color wheel lady just needed a little coffee and chocolate to fix her day and tried to forgive her as I smiled a “thank you” and handed her the drink.

My favorite customers at this shop were the ones who were completely crazy even with the caffeine. The ones you wanted to pick up and throw around a little bit. The infamous service bell-ringers, television button-pressers, tip-stealers, Christmas music-haters, double-shot frescante-orderers and the ones who wanted to tell you exactly what they thought of you, your drinks, your business, and your momma – while still being sweet and polite, of course.

What I learned at Coffee Shop #2: How to deal civilly with impossible people, and how to make a kick-ass frappuccino.

Coffee shop #3, New Haven, Connecticut. Smack in the middle of Yale – home to some of the world’s most brilliant minds – and home to hoards of spoiled, midnight coffee drinking freshman. I experienced more coffee shop cleaning than coffee making here. The walking scientific, historical, and literary geniuses who rushed in and out all day long could not figure out how to use a trash can. They could not pick their napkins up off the floor. They could not learn to pee in the right direction or flush the toilet. They left Kleenexes and empty cups scattered on tables and window ledges. I don’t care how smart you are, I do not want to touch your spit and snot. One morning I watched as a poor girl wandered in circles asking us where she was supposed to sit because the only empty table in the place had a used cup on it. My co-worker had to leave his post to go throw the cup into the garbage for her.

The talented and privileged individuals we served here also took their coffee a little too seriously. It scared me. It was a whole new kind of crazy. No debates sending people angry and running for the doors. No sly southern opinions shot through smiling lips. This shop catered to the kind of crazy that would have girls slamming coffee cups down on the counter, foam and espresso splattering our aprons and the walls, if we forgot to use vanilla soy. The kind of crazy that would send young men rushing back towards the counter shaking fists and demanding free refills for their Americanos if we were off by a few degrees in temperature.

What I learned from Coffee Shop #3: Many brilliant minds lack common sense, and often these minds are unable to function if they do not start their day with the perfect cup of java.

The art of coffee-making taught me more than just how to use sugar and caffeine to tame the beasts within people. While I often finished my days feeling a bit overwhelmed and cynical, I have since discovered the true importance of a barista’s job. Each person that enters a coffee shop, regardless of location or customer base, enters because of a need. In many cases, the need does go beyond getting a jolt of coffee. I learned not to take things personally, and watched as the tensions of the day would be relieved as customers would sip eagerly from the cup of coffee I had made just for them. I became a silent counselor, a shrink who responded to reflection and venting and exasperation with a quiet smile, an uttered “one shot or two?” and a grind of the beans. In supplying a fix for caffeinated addictions, and often taking on the responsibility of absorbing the frustration of uptight or concerned or just plain tired customers, I learned that we all sometimes just need a little coffee and a little love, even if it’s from someone we don’t know.

July 24, 2010

2010-07-24T16:27:00.005-04:00

One thing I have learned the very hard way is that I probably should have gotten an internship in the writing/publishing field while I was still in college and had the excuse of "still learning." Most (every) job I have applied to here in NYC has a minimum requirement of 1, 2, 3, 10 years of "experience." I worked full time during school so never had the opportunity to intern, and now I am (dun dun dun) too INEXPERIENCED to be hired. So, due to these circumstances, I am now doing very different work. Very "unwriterly" work. I am a teacher. For two year olds. On the Upper West Side. (New Yorkers should know what that can mean...).

I love my kids. I love coloring. And I love free Cheezits every afternoon for snack.

I DO NOT love potty-training squirming, drooling toddlers who like to look at their business and then tell me excitedly just how similar it looks to the chocolate cupcakes we are about to eat for another child's birthday party.

Or having a child ask you a question and then sneezing into your mouth when you open it to answer them.

Or hugging a crying child and then watching their snot get wiped onto your sleeve and then begin to drip slowly down your arm.

Or having mothers get angry with you because you cannot remember the exact number of cheerios their child ate for a snack.

I ride the subway home every night, staring enviously at the "business" workers surrounding me. At 6pm they still look like they did that morning. Hair neat, each strand still in its place. Unwrinkled clothing. Makeup, not smeared. Heels!!

A few nights ago I was staring, astonished, at the person across from me. A crazy for sure. Then I realized it was my reflection. I had seven neon smiley face stickers on my shirt, a piece of yarn with multicolored pony beads tied around my neck, and I was striped up to my elbows in blue paint, with somebody's very small handprint on my thigh.

It is exhausting, chasing two and three year olds eight hours a day. And there are days I feel a little pissy. A little bitter. Very unwriter-like. In fact, 7 out of 7 nights a week I come home and do not feel like writing. Not even a sentence.

I began a project on my birthday this year to write one poem every day. I felt it was important to make myself put something down on a regular basis and to hopefully develop a productive habit with pages of beautiful, excellent poetry. But after a long day, that book of poems gets not much more than a glare. I think my last "poem" went something like this:

"Hot. Very hot.And tired. So tired. Can't think of anything to write."

Anyway...

The point of this rant? INTERN IF YOU CAN.

And I suppose I am slowly learning that it is the craziness and ordinariness of daily life that gives us those little bits of inspiration in the end. And it's also what makes getting lost in writing (when you do finally have the time) something so wonderful and worthwhile.

(Just so you don't get me wrong, I really, truly do love my children. And I am honored that these parents trust me enough to care for their children for so many of their waking hours...)

July 20, 2010

2010-07-20T09:24:00.009-04:00

"Cut off as I am, it is inevitable that I
should sometimes feel like a shadow walking in
a shadowy world. When this happens I ask to be
taken to New York City. Always I return home weary
but I have the comforting certainty that mankind is
real and I myself am not a dream."

~Helen Keller

July 18, 2010

2010-07-18T19:26:00.004-04:00

This guy is amazing…

I had the opportunity to see Anis Mojgani perform while I was going to school in Seattle, and I count it as one of the most inspiring moments of my entire education. He has the ability to spit words so full of passion and feeling you can’t help but be moved. I was thrilled when he came out with a book, Over the Anvil We Stretch. Thrilled, but also worried, because when I first started reading it I ran into a few problems. There were strange images, and more than a few lines that made me wonder what the hell he was trying to tell me. Maybe I’m not smart enough, creative enough, or patient enough. I’m not gonna lie, as much as I love poetry, I have very little patience with it. If a poem requires a week’s worth of lectures to understand, and people are writing 35 page papers about it, I probably would have to force myself just to get it down. I can appreciate well-thought-out poems. I can appreciate the genius behind word play and hidden ties between stanzas and current events. But if a poem does not grab my attention and does not make me feel something, make me want to change, make me ask questions, or at least fill me with some sense of wonder, I find it hard to believe it is worth my time. This was my fear with Anis’ book. However, it didn’t take long before those words of his did start to move me. He possesses the ability to spin words into something so beautiful, it makes me feel something whether I “get it” or not. And sometimes that is enough. I think that is really the point of poetry. Maybe we don’t always know exactly what we are “supposed” to feel, or what the poem is “supposed” to be about. But if it makes us feel something, enough to make us stop/consider/cry/wonder/smile, then I think the poet has succeeded. And I think that is a realization we have lost. I have sat through months of lectures on how to analyze poems to determine if they are good, and then sat through more months of others analyzing my own poems and telling me what I needed to do to make them good. But never once did I hear someone ask me or anyone else if any of these poems made us feel something. Feeling is really the only reason why I ever started reading poetry in the first place. And it’s really the only reason I ever decided to pick up the pen.

For My Professor Of Poetry

My words,

circled and crossed

with yours

over mine

in red pen

ink that bleeds

and spreads

and hides.

Not enough

specificity.

Too much

mystery,

perplexity.

Not enough

clarity.

What happened

to the purpose of

poetry

that existed

mentally,

in frightening whirlpools

of words

that rocked

society

emotionally

physically?

Did the lines that barely

breathed,

barely

made sense

scientifically

academically,

sacrifice themselves for an

artistically

graded,

career-minded

and jaded,

community

of cynics

bigots

liars

and fools

believing

that the biological details

of her form,

the syllabic collaboration

of their names,

should replace

the tangled shadows

of indescribable

humanity

divinity

eternity?

And so I sit

calmly,

patiently

waiting,

with my hands folded

in my lap,

and I look into your

eyes

crinkled with the years,

egotistically

measuring my

thoughts.

I retreat back,

and back,

and back again

into my mind of

secrecy,

abstract

distant

vague and

pure.

Freefall into

what cannot be explained,

only felt:

uncertainty,

absurdity,

true.

(Written during one of those special lectures…)

July 12, 2010

2010-07-12T08:47:00.005-04:00

Where has the beauty gone?

The fantastic?

The magic?

Buried behind me

in the home I cannot find.

Have I been forgotten

in this hole

billowing with

driven stares

catering to evil?

Paying the price,

enslaved submission,

for their temporary satisfaction.

In an effort to survive

I try to believe

that maybe you

remember me.

. . .

love146.org

July 11, 2010

2010-07-11T20:36:00.004-04:00

“Breathe in experience, breathe out poetry…” (Rukeyser)

New York City is covered in grey today, but the tourists are out in droves. It’s amazing how living in a city this alive and wonderful can still leave me so desperate for inspiration every week. Or perhaps it is just so full of striking moments and interesting people that it is more a problem of narrowing down the overload of sights I take in, trying to determine just what is worth writing about. It seems natural to search for the big events and eccentric characters. But I think I’ve begun to change my mind about what material really has potential to turn into something worthwhile. I’m starting to let go of these isolated “big moments," turning instead to the ordinary. It is the ordinary that should really drive my writing. The little moments in life that often go unnoticed, but that, if given a chance, can inspire over and over again. I think maybe because they are very real moments. Moments we all have, and can all relate to. A couple years ago a professor encouraged me to begin an “observation journal.” I try to carry it with me most days and when I am met with these moments, I write them down. This journal has served me well on those days when I feel left with nothing. Pages of tiny glimpses into daily life and small, beautiful instances. And it also helps me to remember to take the time to appreciate these experiences every day as I rush around, trying to keep up with this crazy NYC pace.

The view from my apartment