i just returned yesterday from eleven wonderful days in new york. my trip was an excellent break from the monotonous routine of home and holidays, from the stresses of the past few months (and there have been many). i spent new years eve and the following week in the company of one of my most long-time friends. during this trip, i once again found myself browsing apartments for rent in my friend's new neighborhood, jackson heights, queens. when the time came to board the plane, i was actually ready to head back to north carolina -- i felt inspired, ready to write more music and move forward with the life i have built here.
this morning, my landlord unexpectedly knocked on my door. he chose today to tell me that he can no longer rent to me, that he needs the apartment for a sick family member who is moving to town for medical care. since i pay on a month-to-month basis with no formal contract, even though i have asked repeatedly to resign my rental contract (this is a lapse on both our parts), there is nothing i can do. i must move. he's giving me until march to find a new place. i am absolutely devastated. this loft has been my home for almost two years. it is my "new york in north carolina". i had intended to stay here for as long as possible, and now those dreams are dashed.
what a way to start a saturday morning. what a forced march towards something new. i suppose i could look at it as an adventure, but right now i can't see past the shock and pain. it is one thing to choose to leave when physically and emotionally ready, but it is quite another to be shoved out unexpectedly with no prospects in sight. the next two months will probably be rather rocky, and it comes at a time when i had just regained some semblance of footing from a rougher-than-usual autumn. all of this, with the smell of new york still lingering in my hair.
"our homes are our sanctuaries. they're our inviolate caves, the place we feel most safe and secure, where nothing outside can touch us."-PLR
Showing posts with label nc. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nc. Show all posts
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
the first poem i've written in many years (go easy on me)
sweet like rotting fruit
i remember you slicing harry & david pears
in your kitchen and feeding me
one heavenly slice at a time.
the swish of the knife as you pressed
through the skin and your thumb
in my mouth as you pushed each piece past my lips.
i remember the shiver down my back
when you kissed me, your own
lips fresh and sweet with pear juice
and craving a pear later that night
when your lips had left mine and
travelled elsewhere.
today i cut into a harry & david pear
and sliced my thumb with the knife.
instinctively i brought it to my lips and sucked,
the taste of warm copper and cold juice
mixing together into a new memory.
sometimes we need to overwrite. sometimes
we need to reminisce. there is no romance
in the taste of blood, but i'll take it
if it means that the next time i bite
into a pear, i won't remember you.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
loft updates
in case you didn't get the memo, i'm back with a vengeance to my home in nc. after a week of back-to-normal, my employers decided to give me a much-needed week-long break from work. it's been amazing thus far. i'm on weekday two, and shockingly, not spending all of my time sleeping. i've got a lot to do, and have gotten a lot done already. the biggest item on my list was trying to resolve the disdain i've developed for the chaos in my loft. i've always known my space could be amazing, but after living here a year and a half (minus the two months in st. maarten), i realize it wasn't reaching it's potential in the least. after being inspired by the minimalist studio i'd come to call home on the island, coming home to that chaos made me sick to my stomach. i knew a big upheaval was in order... but where to begin?
lucky for me, my answer came quickly. i drove past a new furniture consignment store within my first few days back in town. i walked in to look at their wares, and to ask about their process for choosing consignors. the owner made an appointment to come see several of the large pieces i've been desperate to move: the 7' tall entertainment center that matches my floors way too closely (the color of both is too honey-gold for my cold color style), and the red microsuede loveseat that was killing my color vibe (going for a good balance of cool, via grays, and warm, via taupe... bright red was swinging it from warm to hot, and not in a good way). he agreed to purchase the pieces for an agreeable rate, and is coming to pick them up today from the garage, where they are patiently waiting. these two pieces are the last "i cannot possibly fit this into a minivan if i decide to move" items on my list, and being rid of them is a huge step in my progress.
even more than a thousand miles away, i thought about my loft often while i was gone, and could not seem to solve the conundrum of furniture placement. since i'm on a month-to-month lease at the moment, i even entertained the thought of moving again, to a different space in the same city. i couldn't bring myself to commit to such a drastic step, especially because there are so many things i absolutely love about this space. after removing the last two eyesores, the space instantly felt lighter and more easy to handle. the relocation was inspiring enough that we (the best friend and i) worked out a really awesome rearrangement. i am excited to try it out, but less excited that i'll have to wait almost a week to do so. in the meantime, i've got a lot of small and not-so-small things to keep me occupied, like organizing my busting-at-the-seams closet.
all of this progress is hot on the heels of a week of clothing thrifting, craigslist shopping, and my semi-annual pilgrimage to ikea. after not being able to really shop for seven weeks, but being constantly inspired by the likes of pintrest and blogs i regularly peruse, i feel like i really went overboard in the time since i've been back in winston. from craigslist, i picked up two bar-height director's chairs. i'd been on the hunt for a while for these taller models, to go with my sometimes-standing desk, and they have proven to be a very smart and comfortable choice that has warranted daily use. their previous owner had a great wire rack that i also snatched up, because it matched my other wire racks, but in smaller scale. it fits perfectly in the open space leading to the kitchen, creating a visual barrier i've desperately needed without completely shutting off the space.
to cope with my clothing obsession, i bought 40 more wooden hangers at ikea, and they are already full (bringing my total to something like 100 hangers for nice, non-foldable clothing and outerwear). i still have piles of tees, some of which i hope to make into tanks (via this cute tutorial). i still have stacks of jeans, and some items which have no hanger or space to stack (i still want a large dresser). i also have a huge box of yard-sale-able items that i threw together on my very last night in town before the trip. a friend of mine had a yard sale while i was gone, and graciously picked up my bins to throw in beside hers. i only sold one item, but i'm grateful i already have things organized and should be able to yard-sell again soon, provided i can procure a yard.
also at ikea, i found a 4-cube expedit unit in the as-is section for only $33 dollars, already assembled. when i picked it up, i thought about donating it to my nanny kid's playroom (which desperately needs organization options), but have since decided to keep it, since it fits perfectly under my desk. i'll use it to store my oft-used photography items, in fabric bins i already own. i also picked up two 16' tension wire mounts. my original plan was to use them to add curtains on the front of the 8'x8' sleeping loft (which will be a guest room and reading nook, once we add some railings for safety). now that we're rearranging the main room, at least one of them will span 14.5' of air to cordon off the 7' deep space in front of my two windows with floor to ceiling fabric room dividers, finally forming a sunlit bedroom that doesn't intrude on the rest of the space. it will also create a windowless living room, and (drum roll please) a dedicated photography shooting space with indirect natural light from the windows to the open-air porch.
so, yes, lots to do this week. lots to dream of and lots to work towards, but lots of progress made, and more to come.
lucky for me, my answer came quickly. i drove past a new furniture consignment store within my first few days back in town. i walked in to look at their wares, and to ask about their process for choosing consignors. the owner made an appointment to come see several of the large pieces i've been desperate to move: the 7' tall entertainment center that matches my floors way too closely (the color of both is too honey-gold for my cold color style), and the red microsuede loveseat that was killing my color vibe (going for a good balance of cool, via grays, and warm, via taupe... bright red was swinging it from warm to hot, and not in a good way). he agreed to purchase the pieces for an agreeable rate, and is coming to pick them up today from the garage, where they are patiently waiting. these two pieces are the last "i cannot possibly fit this into a minivan if i decide to move" items on my list, and being rid of them is a huge step in my progress.
even more than a thousand miles away, i thought about my loft often while i was gone, and could not seem to solve the conundrum of furniture placement. since i'm on a month-to-month lease at the moment, i even entertained the thought of moving again, to a different space in the same city. i couldn't bring myself to commit to such a drastic step, especially because there are so many things i absolutely love about this space. after removing the last two eyesores, the space instantly felt lighter and more easy to handle. the relocation was inspiring enough that we (the best friend and i) worked out a really awesome rearrangement. i am excited to try it out, but less excited that i'll have to wait almost a week to do so. in the meantime, i've got a lot of small and not-so-small things to keep me occupied, like organizing my busting-at-the-seams closet.
all of this progress is hot on the heels of a week of clothing thrifting, craigslist shopping, and my semi-annual pilgrimage to ikea. after not being able to really shop for seven weeks, but being constantly inspired by the likes of pintrest and blogs i regularly peruse, i feel like i really went overboard in the time since i've been back in winston. from craigslist, i picked up two bar-height director's chairs. i'd been on the hunt for a while for these taller models, to go with my sometimes-standing desk, and they have proven to be a very smart and comfortable choice that has warranted daily use. their previous owner had a great wire rack that i also snatched up, because it matched my other wire racks, but in smaller scale. it fits perfectly in the open space leading to the kitchen, creating a visual barrier i've desperately needed without completely shutting off the space.
to cope with my clothing obsession, i bought 40 more wooden hangers at ikea, and they are already full (bringing my total to something like 100 hangers for nice, non-foldable clothing and outerwear). i still have piles of tees, some of which i hope to make into tanks (via this cute tutorial). i still have stacks of jeans, and some items which have no hanger or space to stack (i still want a large dresser). i also have a huge box of yard-sale-able items that i threw together on my very last night in town before the trip. a friend of mine had a yard sale while i was gone, and graciously picked up my bins to throw in beside hers. i only sold one item, but i'm grateful i already have things organized and should be able to yard-sell again soon, provided i can procure a yard.
also at ikea, i found a 4-cube expedit unit in the as-is section for only $33 dollars, already assembled. when i picked it up, i thought about donating it to my nanny kid's playroom (which desperately needs organization options), but have since decided to keep it, since it fits perfectly under my desk. i'll use it to store my oft-used photography items, in fabric bins i already own. i also picked up two 16' tension wire mounts. my original plan was to use them to add curtains on the front of the 8'x8' sleeping loft (which will be a guest room and reading nook, once we add some railings for safety). now that we're rearranging the main room, at least one of them will span 14.5' of air to cordon off the 7' deep space in front of my two windows with floor to ceiling fabric room dividers, finally forming a sunlit bedroom that doesn't intrude on the rest of the space. it will also create a windowless living room, and (drum roll please) a dedicated photography shooting space with indirect natural light from the windows to the open-air porch.
so, yes, lots to do this week. lots to dream of and lots to work towards, but lots of progress made, and more to come.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
ten years later
ten years ago, i was sitting in american history class at my high school. outside of that classroom, american history was being made. as part of the newspaper staff, i was pulled from class shortly after the first tower was hit to view live coverage of the event. i watched the towers fall, wanting the whole time to cringe and turn away but refraining. a few years later, i visited new york and stood in what once was their shadow, and choked back tears, trying desperately to comprehend the loss of life we'd experienced as a nation. knowing thousands of people had died within blocks of exactly where i was standing. it was a feeling i'd never known, fear and bravery, fight and flight.
that day, i became more than a north carolina native, more than a united states citizen. i became, in my mind, a citizen of the world, with a new awareness that these things can and do happen. i didn't lose anyone personally. i didn't even know my new york friends, at that time. it was the first time in my life that the gravity of national events had ever affected me in such a manner. it pulled me down, held me in place, and hit me over and over until my ungrateful heart became grateful -- for life, for this kind of life, for those who provide it and sustain it... and for just how lucky i am to be born into it. this consciousness, for me, will always be tied to new york, and tied to this date. it will always jerk tears from my body, because i so often forget these things in the course of my privileged daily life.
ten years ago. that makes me feel old. at least i was able to grow older. at least that searing pain of loss, for me, is not a physical one. for so many, though, it is. they have sense memory of that day -- the sounds and smells, the adrenaline pounding them from the inside out, the rushed calls to relatives and the long walk home. words will never do it justice, especially not my words. it lives beneath the skin of the survivors, still subconsciously covered in fallen building dust. miles away, still waiting for a call that never came from a loved one who would never come home. the eyes on the other side of the television screen, knowing that they'd soon be called up to fight.
from we who viewed from afar. for everyone who will never forget. in honor of consciousness. don't forget to live.
that day, i became more than a north carolina native, more than a united states citizen. i became, in my mind, a citizen of the world, with a new awareness that these things can and do happen. i didn't lose anyone personally. i didn't even know my new york friends, at that time. it was the first time in my life that the gravity of national events had ever affected me in such a manner. it pulled me down, held me in place, and hit me over and over until my ungrateful heart became grateful -- for life, for this kind of life, for those who provide it and sustain it... and for just how lucky i am to be born into it. this consciousness, for me, will always be tied to new york, and tied to this date. it will always jerk tears from my body, because i so often forget these things in the course of my privileged daily life.
ten years ago. that makes me feel old. at least i was able to grow older. at least that searing pain of loss, for me, is not a physical one. for so many, though, it is. they have sense memory of that day -- the sounds and smells, the adrenaline pounding them from the inside out, the rushed calls to relatives and the long walk home. words will never do it justice, especially not my words. it lives beneath the skin of the survivors, still subconsciously covered in fallen building dust. miles away, still waiting for a call that never came from a loved one who would never come home. the eyes on the other side of the television screen, knowing that they'd soon be called up to fight.
from we who viewed from afar. for everyone who will never forget. in honor of consciousness. don't forget to live.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
going swimmingly... sort of
trying to prepare for a trip out of the country when you've never been (out of the country, much less to a tropical island) is like... walking into a dark room with no clue where the lightswitch might be or if there's even a bulb in the fixture. at least, that's how it feels at this point. i have no clue what i'm doing and i can only try to prepare, and ask a LOT of questions of people who have been there before (in particular, my employers).
first things first, i took care of one of the harder tasks: buying all the swimsuits i can possibly afford. i hate, HATE swimsuit shopping. i would much prefer to swim in a full-length wetsuit (yes, long sleeves and long legs) than try to find a suit that's flattering to my body in even the smallest way. i got forced into it last weekend, though, as i was heading to the beach to spend a weekend with family. when i pulled out my suits from previous summers, almost EVERY SINGLE ONE had something wrong with it. in one, the elastic was shot. in another, the material was wearing thin. the one suit i knew fit and looked alright was nowhere to be found, and several of the others have seen the end of their days. cue the torture test of swimsuit shopping.
somehow, though, i lucked out this year. amidst all the teeny tiny triangles, i found not one but two awesome suits. there seems to be a vintage cut revival going on right now, which definitely works with my curves. i spent $60-something on the them, and when i returned home after the beach trip (a little more red for the experience), i found my teal suit. so, three fitting and flattering suits. fun. i've never spent so long with access to various water options (beach, pool, hot tub), but everything i've read says to at least pack two suits (one to wear, while the other is drying or in the wash). i figure i'm safe with three. i swear i'm going to wear one on the plane in case my luggage gets lost...
as for the rest of my wardrobe while on-island, i'm slowly putting it together. i've been told there are very few places to buy clothing there (my mind says there MUST be unless the locals run about naked... which, french beaches, distinct possibility), so i can't count on easily purchasing replacements if something were to happen. i'm trying to stick with either natural, breathable fabrics or quick-drying synthetics. i'm torn on whether to take some of my favorite items (to ward off homesickness) or to keep thrifting for similar items in case they get lost or damaged or just worn out from seven solid weeks of wear. i also want to pack workout gear, in hopes that i'll be motivated to make at least a few trips to the fitness center on site, but i'll likely make sure that those items can also double as pajamas if need be. that way, i'm not overpacking.
as for the other creature comforts i usually shlep along, well, i'm still up in the air. i need to find out some information about power supplies and if i'll need converters. i get the feeling any unnecessary products, like my hair dryer or straightener, will be staying at home. i'll need power for my entertainment items, though, especially my netbook (music, movies, and the almighty internet). i get the feeling that skype and i are about to become best friends.
i'm probably over-thinking it all. i have a tendency to prepare for the worst, especially when packing a suitcase. here's hoping that, with this much time to plan, i'll be wise. then again, i only have five weeks left...
first things first, i took care of one of the harder tasks: buying all the swimsuits i can possibly afford. i hate, HATE swimsuit shopping. i would much prefer to swim in a full-length wetsuit (yes, long sleeves and long legs) than try to find a suit that's flattering to my body in even the smallest way. i got forced into it last weekend, though, as i was heading to the beach to spend a weekend with family. when i pulled out my suits from previous summers, almost EVERY SINGLE ONE had something wrong with it. in one, the elastic was shot. in another, the material was wearing thin. the one suit i knew fit and looked alright was nowhere to be found, and several of the others have seen the end of their days. cue the torture test of swimsuit shopping.
somehow, though, i lucked out this year. amidst all the teeny tiny triangles, i found not one but two awesome suits. there seems to be a vintage cut revival going on right now, which definitely works with my curves. i spent $60-something on the them, and when i returned home after the beach trip (a little more red for the experience), i found my teal suit. so, three fitting and flattering suits. fun. i've never spent so long with access to various water options (beach, pool, hot tub), but everything i've read says to at least pack two suits (one to wear, while the other is drying or in the wash). i figure i'm safe with three. i swear i'm going to wear one on the plane in case my luggage gets lost...
as for the rest of my wardrobe while on-island, i'm slowly putting it together. i've been told there are very few places to buy clothing there (my mind says there MUST be unless the locals run about naked... which, french beaches, distinct possibility), so i can't count on easily purchasing replacements if something were to happen. i'm trying to stick with either natural, breathable fabrics or quick-drying synthetics. i'm torn on whether to take some of my favorite items (to ward off homesickness) or to keep thrifting for similar items in case they get lost or damaged or just worn out from seven solid weeks of wear. i also want to pack workout gear, in hopes that i'll be motivated to make at least a few trips to the fitness center on site, but i'll likely make sure that those items can also double as pajamas if need be. that way, i'm not overpacking.
as for the other creature comforts i usually shlep along, well, i'm still up in the air. i need to find out some information about power supplies and if i'll need converters. i get the feeling any unnecessary products, like my hair dryer or straightener, will be staying at home. i'll need power for my entertainment items, though, especially my netbook (music, movies, and the almighty internet). i get the feeling that skype and i are about to become best friends.
i'm probably over-thinking it all. i have a tendency to prepare for the worst, especially when packing a suitcase. here's hoping that, with this much time to plan, i'll be wise. then again, i only have five weeks left...
Friday, June 3, 2011
and then some
well, i suppose it's common knowledge by now that i absolutely suck at keeping this journal updated, but i've run into some recent developments that definitely merit mention.
first of all, i'm days away from the six month deadline i set for myself, for a decision and possible move to new york. and no, i haven't been ridiculously busy preparing for a move -- i really do just suck at updating. i have still been combing through my possessions and getting things pretty well together for a move of some sort, but at least until the end of september, i'm here to stay. i still have several large pieces of furniture i'd like to sell, for sure -- my couch and my entertainment center, for sure. i've had no luck on craigslist with either of them, at a reasonable price, though.
second, as far back as mid-february, i decided that i'd much rather spend the summer hanging out with the preschooler i nanny, and with my newly-one-year-old nephew gabe, than jet off to new york with no prospects. i called up my landlord, and extended my lease through august 31st. we didn't even sign any paperwork -- my landlord has been absolutely amazing through all of my indecisiveness, and he was fine with a verbal month-to-month payment. my official lease terminated at the end of may, and i've just made my first slightly elevated month's rent payment. i'm feeling great about my space -- the more i personalize it, the more i enjoy it.
you'll notice, third, that i said i extended to the end of august in the previous paragraph, and the end of september in the first one. there's a reason for that. last week, my employers dropped a huge surprise in my lap, one i never would have expected. first, on monday, they gauged my interest in the idea, and by tuesday they'd signed contracts and starting nailing everything down. the news? the four of us (my nanny family, plus me) will be spending seven weeks in St. Maarten, a French-Dutch island in the Caribbean. the seven weeks ends on august 31, which would be incredibly impractical for a move, so extending my lease and buying extra time seemed to be the best option.
more big news? my landlord is interested in putting the loft on the market. he mentioned when i first signed the lease that he was interested in eventually selling, and would definitely consider me when the time came. now, i know i'm not terribly interested in or even able to buy a place, but both he and the realtor are very interested in selling to me, and they're willing to go to some effort to make that happen. so, tenuous though my financials may be, it at least bears consideration. scary!
so, that's what i'm processing right now. half a summer on a tropical island, possibly purchasing a future income property or moving into a new local place, and making peace with no (permanent) new york. i have this great feeling of "right place, right time" at the moment... but that doesn't mean i'm not already mentally planning my next new york vacation!
first of all, i'm days away from the six month deadline i set for myself, for a decision and possible move to new york. and no, i haven't been ridiculously busy preparing for a move -- i really do just suck at updating. i have still been combing through my possessions and getting things pretty well together for a move of some sort, but at least until the end of september, i'm here to stay. i still have several large pieces of furniture i'd like to sell, for sure -- my couch and my entertainment center, for sure. i've had no luck on craigslist with either of them, at a reasonable price, though.
second, as far back as mid-february, i decided that i'd much rather spend the summer hanging out with the preschooler i nanny, and with my newly-one-year-old nephew gabe, than jet off to new york with no prospects. i called up my landlord, and extended my lease through august 31st. we didn't even sign any paperwork -- my landlord has been absolutely amazing through all of my indecisiveness, and he was fine with a verbal month-to-month payment. my official lease terminated at the end of may, and i've just made my first slightly elevated month's rent payment. i'm feeling great about my space -- the more i personalize it, the more i enjoy it.
you'll notice, third, that i said i extended to the end of august in the previous paragraph, and the end of september in the first one. there's a reason for that. last week, my employers dropped a huge surprise in my lap, one i never would have expected. first, on monday, they gauged my interest in the idea, and by tuesday they'd signed contracts and starting nailing everything down. the news? the four of us (my nanny family, plus me) will be spending seven weeks in St. Maarten, a French-Dutch island in the Caribbean. the seven weeks ends on august 31, which would be incredibly impractical for a move, so extending my lease and buying extra time seemed to be the best option.
more big news? my landlord is interested in putting the loft on the market. he mentioned when i first signed the lease that he was interested in eventually selling, and would definitely consider me when the time came. now, i know i'm not terribly interested in or even able to buy a place, but both he and the realtor are very interested in selling to me, and they're willing to go to some effort to make that happen. so, tenuous though my financials may be, it at least bears consideration. scary!
so, that's what i'm processing right now. half a summer on a tropical island, possibly purchasing a future income property or moving into a new local place, and making peace with no (permanent) new york. i have this great feeling of "right place, right time" at the moment... but that doesn't mean i'm not already mentally planning my next new york vacation!
Monday, April 18, 2011
the blame game
i ended my workweek last friday feeling really down. most of the reason: i didn't feel successful at my job of caring for the two awesome boys who have been entrusted to me. i provided the basics, but as for actually enriching their lives, well, i fell short. it certainly wasn't on purpose. instead, i found myself very short-tempered with them, and with their failure to meet my expectations. come on. they're 2.5 years and 11 months, respectively. almost any expectation is too much of one, but they're both very smart boys, and i know their capabilities. still, it's my failures, not theirs, that bother me so much
i realized i was, over and over, losing my patience and saying or doing things i shouldn't. i wasn't building confidence, but was instead on a crash course to break them down. it's good that i can be honest with myself, acknowledge this huge misstep, and take steps to correct it. in doing so, though, i'm reminded of my past. i'm a product of a pretty broken life, family-wise, and of a parenting strategy that was lacking in some ways and overbearing in others. while i do believe that my past is a factor in my behavior and beliefs, i don't believe that i have to fully succumb to its wiles. i'm not forced to be subject to its dysfunction. i can live a life in which i am aware of myself, my thoughts and actions.
it's easy to put the blame on my past, and say that i am not entirely responsible for my actions. it's easy to say, "well, of course you're going to be strict... and angry... and selfish... look what you came from!" the truth of the matter, though, is that i'm responsible. me. for my own actions. and for how those actions affect everyone around me. it's silly to assume that i'm immune from the person i was brought up to be, but it's also silly to think that i can't also be more than that. one of my long-time favorite quotes is from a book i read in high school:
"i guess we are who we are for a lot of reasons. and maybe we'll never know most of them. but even if we don't have the power to choose where we come from, we can still choose where we go from there. we can still do things. and we can try to feel okay about them." -charlie, from "the perks of being a wallflower" by stephen chbosky
truthfully, it didn't really get any better over the weekend. coupled with some sad news from my family, and major storms across the state, i remained pretty down. i made some pretty ridiculous choices in an effort to not over-analyze my life. at some point, though, you finally wake up from the numbness and realize that it's perfectly okay to be human, to make mistakes. that's how we're made. we can strive to be better, though. when i woke up this morning, i did feel a little better. that's not to say i'm made the 100% best choices all day, with my words and actions, but i'm trying. i'm learning how to not be angry all the time.
today, i prepared lunch for the three of us, and instead of lording over the boys and making sure they're shoving food in their faces, i sat with them and ate my own food. they ate better than they have in weeks. the toddler told me everything he did at preschool today, in between bites and without his mouth full. he didn't make a huge mess (as he does when i'm distracted), and he ate EVERY bite of his food until the very end, when he knew he was full, without me having to ask him to keep eating. he used proper words, and asked nicely to leave the table, and cooperated when i asked him to stay until we were all finished with food. the baby quietly munched, his highchair pulled up to the table with us. he signed "milk" when he was ready for a drink, and "more eat" when he had finished the food in front of him. he giggled and grinned, and didn't pitch a fit when i left the table to clean up.
yes, they're smart -- advanced for their age, sometimes -- but they're still tiny humans, tiny flawed people who will spend the rest of their life trying and perhaps failing to live up to some kind of standard set by a world which craves the impossible. the least i can do is be their encourager, and teach them by both words and examples that it's okay to mess up. i know i certainly do.
i realized i was, over and over, losing my patience and saying or doing things i shouldn't. i wasn't building confidence, but was instead on a crash course to break them down. it's good that i can be honest with myself, acknowledge this huge misstep, and take steps to correct it. in doing so, though, i'm reminded of my past. i'm a product of a pretty broken life, family-wise, and of a parenting strategy that was lacking in some ways and overbearing in others. while i do believe that my past is a factor in my behavior and beliefs, i don't believe that i have to fully succumb to its wiles. i'm not forced to be subject to its dysfunction. i can live a life in which i am aware of myself, my thoughts and actions.
it's easy to put the blame on my past, and say that i am not entirely responsible for my actions. it's easy to say, "well, of course you're going to be strict... and angry... and selfish... look what you came from!" the truth of the matter, though, is that i'm responsible. me. for my own actions. and for how those actions affect everyone around me. it's silly to assume that i'm immune from the person i was brought up to be, but it's also silly to think that i can't also be more than that. one of my long-time favorite quotes is from a book i read in high school:
"i guess we are who we are for a lot of reasons. and maybe we'll never know most of them. but even if we don't have the power to choose where we come from, we can still choose where we go from there. we can still do things. and we can try to feel okay about them." -charlie, from "the perks of being a wallflower" by stephen chbosky
truthfully, it didn't really get any better over the weekend. coupled with some sad news from my family, and major storms across the state, i remained pretty down. i made some pretty ridiculous choices in an effort to not over-analyze my life. at some point, though, you finally wake up from the numbness and realize that it's perfectly okay to be human, to make mistakes. that's how we're made. we can strive to be better, though. when i woke up this morning, i did feel a little better. that's not to say i'm made the 100% best choices all day, with my words and actions, but i'm trying. i'm learning how to not be angry all the time.
today, i prepared lunch for the three of us, and instead of lording over the boys and making sure they're shoving food in their faces, i sat with them and ate my own food. they ate better than they have in weeks. the toddler told me everything he did at preschool today, in between bites and without his mouth full. he didn't make a huge mess (as he does when i'm distracted), and he ate EVERY bite of his food until the very end, when he knew he was full, without me having to ask him to keep eating. he used proper words, and asked nicely to leave the table, and cooperated when i asked him to stay until we were all finished with food. the baby quietly munched, his highchair pulled up to the table with us. he signed "milk" when he was ready for a drink, and "more eat" when he had finished the food in front of him. he giggled and grinned, and didn't pitch a fit when i left the table to clean up.
yes, they're smart -- advanced for their age, sometimes -- but they're still tiny humans, tiny flawed people who will spend the rest of their life trying and perhaps failing to live up to some kind of standard set by a world which craves the impossible. the least i can do is be their encourager, and teach them by both words and examples that it's okay to mess up. i know i certainly do.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
national poetry month
or, why i'm being selfish with my words.
words have always been a big obsession of mine, from clever lyrics to well-wrought prose. i've always considered myself to be a writer, though the forms it has taken have often changed over the years. the first form of writing i really shared with others was poetry, so it definitely holds a very special place with me. some friends of mine have created an annual event in which they share a poem a day in a public forum, and i was invited and agreed to join it. yet, here we are five days into national poetry month, and i've not shared one measly line with them. lame, kid.
the crazy part is that i'm actually writing almost every day, even if it's just a line or two. that's incredibly often, for me. i'm inspired. i keep typing the words into this blog-writing box, and before i can hit "publish" end up transferring them over to my songwriting journals. selfish, i know, that i'm not sharing, especially when i'm writing (at least initially) with that intent. at the end of every day i am back at a blank page. it's a wonderful metaphor, another page in the book of life, but (much as life often is) it's frustrating to me.
overall, i'm creatively sated with the words i'm turning into song. i just hesitate to share them. i know they're not complete without being sung, without melody, and there's no quick and easy way for me to make and share recordings. even if i could (technologically and time-wise), i'm not sure i'd be able to do so just yet. songwriting rubs me raw, exposes all of my vulnerabilities and pulls them to the surface. it's all i can do just to mop up the mess it makes. publishing them at this early stage is akin to sticking the adhesive portion of the band-aid directly on the wound, and then pulling it off mere minutes after you've applied it. if that doesn't conjure an "ow" from you, well... maybe you're tougher than me.
if i do happen to write something that doesn't turn into a song, it will appear [here]. you're welcome to join in and add your own work, even if it's not every day. you'll be in good company... and maybe, someday soon, mine.
words have always been a big obsession of mine, from clever lyrics to well-wrought prose. i've always considered myself to be a writer, though the forms it has taken have often changed over the years. the first form of writing i really shared with others was poetry, so it definitely holds a very special place with me. some friends of mine have created an annual event in which they share a poem a day in a public forum, and i was invited and agreed to join it. yet, here we are five days into national poetry month, and i've not shared one measly line with them. lame, kid.
the crazy part is that i'm actually writing almost every day, even if it's just a line or two. that's incredibly often, for me. i'm inspired. i keep typing the words into this blog-writing box, and before i can hit "publish" end up transferring them over to my songwriting journals. selfish, i know, that i'm not sharing, especially when i'm writing (at least initially) with that intent. at the end of every day i am back at a blank page. it's a wonderful metaphor, another page in the book of life, but (much as life often is) it's frustrating to me.
overall, i'm creatively sated with the words i'm turning into song. i just hesitate to share them. i know they're not complete without being sung, without melody, and there's no quick and easy way for me to make and share recordings. even if i could (technologically and time-wise), i'm not sure i'd be able to do so just yet. songwriting rubs me raw, exposes all of my vulnerabilities and pulls them to the surface. it's all i can do just to mop up the mess it makes. publishing them at this early stage is akin to sticking the adhesive portion of the band-aid directly on the wound, and then pulling it off mere minutes after you've applied it. if that doesn't conjure an "ow" from you, well... maybe you're tougher than me.
if i do happen to write something that doesn't turn into a song, it will appear [here]. you're welcome to join in and add your own work, even if it's not every day. you'll be in good company... and maybe, someday soon, mine.
Monday, March 28, 2011
on the horizon
it's been over a month since i've written anything down, in this particular place. it's been a pretty crazy month. sure, i've thought about blogging, but sitting down and taking the time to do it was too taxing. now, here i sit, absolutely exhausted and wondering where the time has gone.
looking at my loft, you really wouldn't think i've spent a good portion of the past month and a half working my booty off. it turns out that sorting your possessions is both time-consuming and tiring. i have body aches, bruises, and cuts to attest to my work. honestly, i really didn't realize how much clothing i had amassed until it was all laid out on the floor, waiting to be tried on and categorized, and forcing me to maneuver around it. i have definitely been thinking in terms of keep, toss, maybe (but needs work). that sorting process has been spilling over to other parts of my life as well, and i've been quick to let go of things and people who add little to nothing to my life. if you read this, though, don't automatically assume that if i haven't connected with you in the past month that i'm ready to let you go.
in addition to all of the work going into my home life, i also unexpectedly started nannying again full-time at the beginning of march. the two little ones are so happy to be spending time together again (they're from different families), but it's a lot of hard work and long days. on the average full-time day, i'm putting in eleven hours of nanny work. this is a huge increase from the six hour days i'd grown accustomed to working for the past six months. on the one weekday i'm not working all day, when one littlest one is with his grandmother and the eldest one is in preschool for the morning, i started taking music theory/piano/guitar lessons. it's going very well, i think, and i'm proud of the progress i'm making, slowly but steadily. it's got the inspiration flowing as well, and i began working on a new song. i've been jotting down little lyrics and melodies for future songs, too. it's exciting to have yet another artistic outlet for myself.
early march also marked the beginning of the outdoor photography season, and suddenly clients are clamoring for my attention (an awesome thing... i can't even begin to describe how great that makes me feel). i photographed the first wedding of the season, and have also stayed very busy with portrait sessions as well. i photographed four sessions this month, and i have two more booked in april. i have done little to no advertising for this. i don't feel like i deserve it at all. most of them are repeat clients, and if you know anything about the business world... it means i must be doing something right.
the toll it's all taking on my body is profound. i am losing weight. i am eating more frequently, because my body craves fuel. i no longer rely on caffeine for a boost, and keep no more sodas at home. once i get going in the morning, i'm usually a relentless force until some sixteen hours later. i fall into bed, sleep hard, and wake up just refreshed enough to get going. lately, in the mornings, i've had to make a choice between taking a short nap (while the little one naps) or making further progress with some form of work (home, photography, or music). all but one morning, i have chosen progress.
so, where is the mention of new york in this? i'm almost halfway to the deadline i'd set for myself. i honestly have no clue whether i'll meet it or not. my life is very rich here, and though it ebbs and flows, i get the feeling i'm building something amazing right where i'm at. i haven't made a decision one way or another, right now, as to when and whether i'll end up in my city of dreams. right now, though, i think i'm going to go get a well-deserved massage before tackling the upcoming week.
looking at my loft, you really wouldn't think i've spent a good portion of the past month and a half working my booty off. it turns out that sorting your possessions is both time-consuming and tiring. i have body aches, bruises, and cuts to attest to my work. honestly, i really didn't realize how much clothing i had amassed until it was all laid out on the floor, waiting to be tried on and categorized, and forcing me to maneuver around it. i have definitely been thinking in terms of keep, toss, maybe (but needs work). that sorting process has been spilling over to other parts of my life as well, and i've been quick to let go of things and people who add little to nothing to my life. if you read this, though, don't automatically assume that if i haven't connected with you in the past month that i'm ready to let you go.
in addition to all of the work going into my home life, i also unexpectedly started nannying again full-time at the beginning of march. the two little ones are so happy to be spending time together again (they're from different families), but it's a lot of hard work and long days. on the average full-time day, i'm putting in eleven hours of nanny work. this is a huge increase from the six hour days i'd grown accustomed to working for the past six months. on the one weekday i'm not working all day, when one littlest one is with his grandmother and the eldest one is in preschool for the morning, i started taking music theory/piano/guitar lessons. it's going very well, i think, and i'm proud of the progress i'm making, slowly but steadily. it's got the inspiration flowing as well, and i began working on a new song. i've been jotting down little lyrics and melodies for future songs, too. it's exciting to have yet another artistic outlet for myself.
early march also marked the beginning of the outdoor photography season, and suddenly clients are clamoring for my attention (an awesome thing... i can't even begin to describe how great that makes me feel). i photographed the first wedding of the season, and have also stayed very busy with portrait sessions as well. i photographed four sessions this month, and i have two more booked in april. i have done little to no advertising for this. i don't feel like i deserve it at all. most of them are repeat clients, and if you know anything about the business world... it means i must be doing something right.
the toll it's all taking on my body is profound. i am losing weight. i am eating more frequently, because my body craves fuel. i no longer rely on caffeine for a boost, and keep no more sodas at home. once i get going in the morning, i'm usually a relentless force until some sixteen hours later. i fall into bed, sleep hard, and wake up just refreshed enough to get going. lately, in the mornings, i've had to make a choice between taking a short nap (while the little one naps) or making further progress with some form of work (home, photography, or music). all but one morning, i have chosen progress.
so, where is the mention of new york in this? i'm almost halfway to the deadline i'd set for myself. i honestly have no clue whether i'll meet it or not. my life is very rich here, and though it ebbs and flows, i get the feeling i'm building something amazing right where i'm at. i haven't made a decision one way or another, right now, as to when and whether i'll end up in my city of dreams. right now, though, i think i'm going to go get a well-deserved massage before tackling the upcoming week.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
killing ourselves with convenience
disclaimer: i don't even like the word. it almost becomes a cop-out, like i'm refusing to claim my own opinion. i will say this, though -- it IS just an opinion. agree, disagree, or don't give a care. either way, it's my thought process, and i'm claiming it.
there's a new product on the market, made by a very popular company whose brand name has become synonymous with its product, so much so that people don't say "please hand me a disposable facial tissue," they say, "please hand me a (brand name)." i'm sure you know the brand, if not the product. their newest item is a disposable hand towel, made for use after each hand washing. its packaging, very conveniently, is made to fit on top of a towel bar (much like you'd find in many household bathrooms) in place of a cloth hand towel. the brand touts the germ-avoiding wonders of using one disposable towel per person after each hand washing, and never having to wash another cloth hand towel. they're attempting to make life more convenient and more sanitary, by providing one-time-use disposable products.
let's think back just a few years, to how many items that are now one-time-use disposables, which were once NOT. because i'm a nanny, i immediately consider how many disposable products we use and throw away per day, per child. dirty or wet diapers are our main export, usually around eight to ten per day (and these are laden with chemicals used to absorb more, so they can stay on longer -- convenience, again... but at what cost). then i think about the number of dirty wipes also thrown away (at least one per diaper), the number of tissues we use to wipe little noses (some days none, some days 20+), and the number of papertowels used to clean up just about ANY spill (and there are a LOT, with babies and toddlers). that's just items used on a daily basis, with one child!
why use a child as an example here? they emulate -- it's how they learn. it's short-sighted, though. a child thinks "nanny uses a paper towel to clean up a mess. next time i make a mess, i'll use a paper towel to clean it. nanny throws the paper towel in the garbage can. i'll do that, too." a child does NOT think, "if everyone in our city uses one paper towel per person, per day, that's 50,000 paper towels per day sitting around, waiting to decompose. tomorrow, it will be 100,000. a week from now, it will be 700,000. a month from now, it will be 3 million. 3 million paper towels takes up a lot of space. and how many people live in my country? and how much space do we have? and what other kinds of products are going to the landfill because we prize convenience over consciousness?" (if your child thinks this, please let me know... i'd like to high-five them AND you.)
once upon a time, people almost exclusively used cloth diapers, cloth wipes, cloth handkerchiefs, and cloth dish towels/rags. you buy them once, wash them after each use, and use them until they fall apart. in fact, some people even REUSED their items later -- when children no longer needed the cloth diapers, they would often be used as cleaning rags or, i don't know... stuffing for homemade pillows. i'm not saying these types of items wouldn't eventually end up in landfills at some point in their product life span. i'm just saying that they end up there, in less quantity and much less often (because we're not throwing them away, every day). they are multiple-use items. furthermore, what's with the selective environmentalism? why can we use a washable burp cloth (spit-up is just as gross as nasal drippings, in my opinion) for the baby, but not use a cloth handkerchief for ourself? why can we rely on our washing machines to clean one, but not the other?
let's get back to the child example. a child thinks: "i accept using one-time-use disposables because it is the way i have been lead to believe is appropriate and allowable. plus, it's convenient because i'm not the one doing the work!" a child does not necessarily think: "wait... what if there's a better way to clean and reduce germs, that won't cause 50,000 extra pieces of trash per day in the landfill near my city?" those are adult thoughts, the thoughts of a brain that can conceptualize beyond themselves. it's high time we jump on the adult bandwagon here... me included.
sadly, it's not simply a matter of providing convenience or better sanitation. one-time-use disposables promote a lifestyle which allows you to simply throw away your problems. companies are marketing to a lazy, paranoid society, one who doesn't want to do one more load of laundry a week to clean their own filth -- they just want to throw it away, for someone else to handle. the company fosters a dependence on these items by making you believe you can't perform a certain task without the item, at least not without risking grave consequences (in this case, germs!!). what gross, germ-ridden person is wiping their poorly-cleansed hands all over your cloth hand towel in your personal bathroom and forcing you to use it for months on end without washing? no one but yourself. yeah, think about that. YOU are in control of how well you wash your hands (which should be well enough to remove any significant germs) and how often you wash your hand towels. maybe it would be different if we didn't know any better, but we do.
here's the portion of this program where i jump off my high horse, and tell you a little about my own life. i use paper towels, probably on a weekly basis. i occasionally buy disposable napkins, plates, cups, and utensils for parties. i don't always carry my own reusable grocery bags. i have probably used over 100,000 disposable diapers in my career as a nanny... maybe more! i don't wash my own hand towels as often as i should when i don't have guests. i am lazy. i have taken the easy road. i have done all of this, in the past, without considering how it might affect the world around me, or even me... but one-time-use disposables aren't helping me overcome this. they're feeding the laziness, telling me it's okay to be lazy as long as i'm buying something to temporarily fix it. another problem is that it's never enough. we've tired of washing diapers, handkerchiefs, and hand towels. what's next? bath towels, bed linens, clothing? or, here's one that might hit home for some of you: technology.
as i'm starting to become more aware about the kind of life i'm leading, and of the world around me, i'm forming more opinions about what's right for me. it's not about the guilt i feel for making (what i consider to be) bad decisions, though. it's about wanting to be better, to live a better life. at the core, i'm not necessarily trying to identify with a particular environmental cause. i want to live a more conscious life, and that should extend to every part of my life... including my hand towels.
oh, and just to bring it back around to the title, here's an alternate title i considered but found to be a little too long: how natural selection is going to kill off our species with laziness and apathy.
there's a new product on the market, made by a very popular company whose brand name has become synonymous with its product, so much so that people don't say "please hand me a disposable facial tissue," they say, "please hand me a (brand name)." i'm sure you know the brand, if not the product. their newest item is a disposable hand towel, made for use after each hand washing. its packaging, very conveniently, is made to fit on top of a towel bar (much like you'd find in many household bathrooms) in place of a cloth hand towel. the brand touts the germ-avoiding wonders of using one disposable towel per person after each hand washing, and never having to wash another cloth hand towel. they're attempting to make life more convenient and more sanitary, by providing one-time-use disposable products.
let's think back just a few years, to how many items that are now one-time-use disposables, which were once NOT. because i'm a nanny, i immediately consider how many disposable products we use and throw away per day, per child. dirty or wet diapers are our main export, usually around eight to ten per day (and these are laden with chemicals used to absorb more, so they can stay on longer -- convenience, again... but at what cost). then i think about the number of dirty wipes also thrown away (at least one per diaper), the number of tissues we use to wipe little noses (some days none, some days 20+), and the number of papertowels used to clean up just about ANY spill (and there are a LOT, with babies and toddlers). that's just items used on a daily basis, with one child!
why use a child as an example here? they emulate -- it's how they learn. it's short-sighted, though. a child thinks "nanny uses a paper towel to clean up a mess. next time i make a mess, i'll use a paper towel to clean it. nanny throws the paper towel in the garbage can. i'll do that, too." a child does NOT think, "if everyone in our city uses one paper towel per person, per day, that's 50,000 paper towels per day sitting around, waiting to decompose. tomorrow, it will be 100,000. a week from now, it will be 700,000. a month from now, it will be 3 million. 3 million paper towels takes up a lot of space. and how many people live in my country? and how much space do we have? and what other kinds of products are going to the landfill because we prize convenience over consciousness?" (if your child thinks this, please let me know... i'd like to high-five them AND you.)
once upon a time, people almost exclusively used cloth diapers, cloth wipes, cloth handkerchiefs, and cloth dish towels/rags. you buy them once, wash them after each use, and use them until they fall apart. in fact, some people even REUSED their items later -- when children no longer needed the cloth diapers, they would often be used as cleaning rags or, i don't know... stuffing for homemade pillows. i'm not saying these types of items wouldn't eventually end up in landfills at some point in their product life span. i'm just saying that they end up there, in less quantity and much less often (because we're not throwing them away, every day). they are multiple-use items. furthermore, what's with the selective environmentalism? why can we use a washable burp cloth (spit-up is just as gross as nasal drippings, in my opinion) for the baby, but not use a cloth handkerchief for ourself? why can we rely on our washing machines to clean one, but not the other?
let's get back to the child example. a child thinks: "i accept using one-time-use disposables because it is the way i have been lead to believe is appropriate and allowable. plus, it's convenient because i'm not the one doing the work!" a child does not necessarily think: "wait... what if there's a better way to clean and reduce germs, that won't cause 50,000 extra pieces of trash per day in the landfill near my city?" those are adult thoughts, the thoughts of a brain that can conceptualize beyond themselves. it's high time we jump on the adult bandwagon here... me included.
sadly, it's not simply a matter of providing convenience or better sanitation. one-time-use disposables promote a lifestyle which allows you to simply throw away your problems. companies are marketing to a lazy, paranoid society, one who doesn't want to do one more load of laundry a week to clean their own filth -- they just want to throw it away, for someone else to handle. the company fosters a dependence on these items by making you believe you can't perform a certain task without the item, at least not without risking grave consequences (in this case, germs!!). what gross, germ-ridden person is wiping their poorly-cleansed hands all over your cloth hand towel in your personal bathroom and forcing you to use it for months on end without washing? no one but yourself. yeah, think about that. YOU are in control of how well you wash your hands (which should be well enough to remove any significant germs) and how often you wash your hand towels. maybe it would be different if we didn't know any better, but we do.
here's the portion of this program where i jump off my high horse, and tell you a little about my own life. i use paper towels, probably on a weekly basis. i occasionally buy disposable napkins, plates, cups, and utensils for parties. i don't always carry my own reusable grocery bags. i have probably used over 100,000 disposable diapers in my career as a nanny... maybe more! i don't wash my own hand towels as often as i should when i don't have guests. i am lazy. i have taken the easy road. i have done all of this, in the past, without considering how it might affect the world around me, or even me... but one-time-use disposables aren't helping me overcome this. they're feeding the laziness, telling me it's okay to be lazy as long as i'm buying something to temporarily fix it. another problem is that it's never enough. we've tired of washing diapers, handkerchiefs, and hand towels. what's next? bath towels, bed linens, clothing? or, here's one that might hit home for some of you: technology.
as i'm starting to become more aware about the kind of life i'm leading, and of the world around me, i'm forming more opinions about what's right for me. it's not about the guilt i feel for making (what i consider to be) bad decisions, though. it's about wanting to be better, to live a better life. at the core, i'm not necessarily trying to identify with a particular environmental cause. i want to live a more conscious life, and that should extend to every part of my life... including my hand towels.
oh, and just to bring it back around to the title, here's an alternate title i considered but found to be a little too long: how natural selection is going to kill off our species with laziness and apathy.
Monday, January 24, 2011
have guitar, will travel
sometimes i forget that i lived a life before this one, that my expression has evolved many times to make me the person and artist i am today. while cleaning out my closet, i unearthed my guitars. there are three. the first, a purple electric, was a gift i begged for when i was thirteen years old. it was more the idea of being a guitarist that i wanted, and so it sat for at least two years before i ever really endeavored to play it. a dear friend taught me some chords, which turned into songs, which pushed me into playing shows with my original material. throughout high school, that was my identity, my art. i lived and breathed my music, craved the outlet. i wrote song after song, played shows to tiny packed-out coffeehouses. they were simple songs, simple expressions of the chaos of my teenage life.
moving into my early twenties, i made my first relocation. the city had a bigger and better music scene. it was more difficult to break into, and i lost my nerve. instead, i began to enjoy listening to music, attending shows rather than enduring the pressure of playing them. i tried to keep up the practice schedule and writing sessions, but my previous desperate need for it was no longer there. during college, my heart got ripped out of my chest in a multitude of ways. for catharsis, i started writing lyrics again, and found myself singing songs under my breath again. after one particularly tumultuous semester and the decision to drop out of school, i decided to enlist as a summer camp counselor. i knew i wouldn't be able to take my electric rig with me, and thus i purchased my second guitar, a black acoustic.
that guitar traveled everywhere with me. its case still has homeland security tape and airport claim tags attached to it, from my very first airplane trip. because it's the first guitar i bought for myself, it's more special to me than the third guitar (a white electric i bought while trying to revive my music mini-career for all the wrong reasons). it's that simple black acoustic that called me from its case, interrupting my organization progress. i picked up my old friend, and played a few songs. some were my own. some were songs of others i like and sing particularly well. of course, my voice is not in shape and my fingertip callouses have faded. i couldn't play for too long without it hurting in various ways, and without being reminded of old hurts, as well, the catalyst behind so many of my songs. when i sang my last note, loud and strong, it lingered in the room, bouncing off the walls of my loft.
in so many ways, i'm still that girl with the black guitar who nervously stepped onstage and could barely sing loud enough for anyone to hear. i am still self-conscious and self-critical, and i still don't believe i have the guts to follow my dreams. the echo of my own voice, so much stronger than it used to be, tells me that i am also a new sort of girl, a girl not afraid to lay her soul bare and take chances with her life. i'm still self-conscious, but i don't let it hold me back. i'm still self-critical, but i use it to make myself better. i DO have the guts to follow my dreams. they're just different dreams, now. they will always evolve, as will i. i wonder how long i will carry the black guitar with me, how many more airport claim tags it might accumulate, and from what cities. how many more songs will i write on her strings? will our next time together find me stronger or weaker? will i ever sell her? will i ever be able? after all, i am still the girl with the black guitar, only now i carry her, instead of her carrying me.
moving into my early twenties, i made my first relocation. the city had a bigger and better music scene. it was more difficult to break into, and i lost my nerve. instead, i began to enjoy listening to music, attending shows rather than enduring the pressure of playing them. i tried to keep up the practice schedule and writing sessions, but my previous desperate need for it was no longer there. during college, my heart got ripped out of my chest in a multitude of ways. for catharsis, i started writing lyrics again, and found myself singing songs under my breath again. after one particularly tumultuous semester and the decision to drop out of school, i decided to enlist as a summer camp counselor. i knew i wouldn't be able to take my electric rig with me, and thus i purchased my second guitar, a black acoustic.
that guitar traveled everywhere with me. its case still has homeland security tape and airport claim tags attached to it, from my very first airplane trip. because it's the first guitar i bought for myself, it's more special to me than the third guitar (a white electric i bought while trying to revive my music mini-career for all the wrong reasons). it's that simple black acoustic that called me from its case, interrupting my organization progress. i picked up my old friend, and played a few songs. some were my own. some were songs of others i like and sing particularly well. of course, my voice is not in shape and my fingertip callouses have faded. i couldn't play for too long without it hurting in various ways, and without being reminded of old hurts, as well, the catalyst behind so many of my songs. when i sang my last note, loud and strong, it lingered in the room, bouncing off the walls of my loft.
in so many ways, i'm still that girl with the black guitar who nervously stepped onstage and could barely sing loud enough for anyone to hear. i am still self-conscious and self-critical, and i still don't believe i have the guts to follow my dreams. the echo of my own voice, so much stronger than it used to be, tells me that i am also a new sort of girl, a girl not afraid to lay her soul bare and take chances with her life. i'm still self-conscious, but i don't let it hold me back. i'm still self-critical, but i use it to make myself better. i DO have the guts to follow my dreams. they're just different dreams, now. they will always evolve, as will i. i wonder how long i will carry the black guitar with me, how many more airport claim tags it might accumulate, and from what cities. how many more songs will i write on her strings? will our next time together find me stronger or weaker? will i ever sell her? will i ever be able? after all, i am still the girl with the black guitar, only now i carry her, instead of her carrying me.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
defining my style
i just took an online quiz i found at [sproost.com]. it was fairly comprehensive, and involved me looking at a LOT of photos of rooms and rating them. much like rating one of my journal entries, i had to choose whether i hate the room, don't like the room, think the room is just okay, like the room, or love the room. i could choose to single out various elements that i like or don't like, but for this, i just examined the room as a whole. below are my results, with words and phrases i truly identify with italicized. seeing it all laid out like this, i can see the cohesion!!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
40% Vintage Modern
Flea Market anyone? You know you are drawn to modern furniture and interiors, and yet you really don't like a space that feels cold and sterile. And who could blame you? And that's why Vintage Modern is so appealing to you. Though the backdrop of the room, the walls and windows, are many times white or monochromatic, the furniture and accessories have the color, shape and texture to bring the warmth into the space. The great thing about Vintage Modern is ease of mixing different styles in the one space. You can have a new modular sofa mixed with a great pair of chairs that your grandmother purchased in the late 1950's and the new and old work appear as though they were destined for each other. What's great is that even if you don't have time for swap meets and garage sales, so many of the pieces from the mid-century were so great that they have been remade and mimicked year after year.Materials
The other great thing about Vintage Modern is how low maintenance it can be — fabrics such as cotton, microfiber or ultra-suede and leather all look great and function even better. So whether you are having a cocktail party with friends, or kids are in the picture, the room and the furnishings can handle it. Because the style harkens back to the early twentieth century, the innovative developed during that time are very popular: acrylic, plastic and fiberglass, chrome and steel, and molded plywood. Concrete floors, countertops and furniture are also very popular and lacquered finishes are very common.Colors
When it comes to color, walls are seen as backdrops for the room. Neutral tones of gray, white, beige and brown are very common and black is a common accent color. Pops of color on the art, furniture and accessories can vary dramatically based on the person, however very common colors are teal blues, army greens and yellow as well as deep oranges and bright reds.--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
40% Cottage Chic
Who says that cottages can't be modern and chic? Who says that they have to be floral and cheesy? Not you! You love the carefree spirit that the cottage interior inspires, but you are also serious about your appreciation for modern art and hip treasures. You love old and new alike, and love to highlight them all to expose the uniqueness of each. What better way to show off these treasures than with a light background?Materials
You have a great sense of humor when it comes to design and even like to make fun of the style itself. Which means that you will throw in a toy boat or a vintage life preserver to keep the mood of the place just like the color: light! The fabrics are natural (cottons and linens) and are light in touch. Much of the furniture is wood or wood framed (the lighter the better, think driftwood!) and as long as it's used sparingly or with modern lines, you even throw in a wicker piece here and there.Colors
Your true inspiration (whether you know it or not) is the sea... the colors found at your favorite beach: white and light beige of the sand, a variety of blues for the ocean and sky, and greens and pale grays of the sea glass... but the key is white! Your space should feel light and airy and give off the mood one has when at the beach: laid back! The key with Cottage Chic is balance; in one corner there could be a rustic wood table that looks like it could have been found rather than made, but it is offset with a modern vase while another corner is adorned with a modern Lucite piece.Space Planning
The furniture is comfortable and the layout is cozy. The more it encourages intimate gatherings the better! Just watch out for the red wine spills on the new white sofa! The color throughout is light and airy - and though you love to accessorize with fun colors (the sky's the limit with a white background), the main color seen and felt throughout the house is white or very light versions of colors so that they feel almost white.--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
20% Rustic Revival
You can take kid out of the country but you can't take the country out of the kid... or is your theme "you can take the kid out of the city, but you can't take the city out of the kid?" Either way you play it, you are one of the unique individuals who loves a mix of modern and country. The clean lines of the modern softened by rustic /vintage elements is the perfect mix in your mind. And can we blame you? You've taken the best aspects of two popular designs and mixed them in a manner that appeals young and old alike. A subtle background of white or light colors provides a nice canvas for all the wonderful flea market, eBay or garage sale finds as well as the classic modern pieces that you love.Materials
The material palette for urban country runs the gamut because of the two extremes being mixed. On the countryside you see a lot of wood, woven rope, canvas and linen, rustic metals and wrought iron, cowhide and vintage leather. On the more modern side, you see acrylic, satin and polished nickel and chrome, glass, faux fur, refined leather, fiberglass and sleek woods. It's the mixing of these elements that makes the style work so well. Seagrass and other natural woven materials are often used for floor coverings. Concrete and natural wood floors are very popular, and work really well together.Colors
When it comes to color, think light, casual and airy. White, pale gray or beige, khaki and sage; all of these colors make nice, subtle backdrops for Urban Country style. Think of the colors of natural linen, concrete, and if you'd like to go dark, use the dark brownish-black of iron or the deep burnt orange of rust. The key is to keep the spaces feeling open (go modern!) and yet warm (yay for rustic!), and by going light on the walls and major pieces and more color on the accents and accessories you can achieve this mix really well.the furniture isn't fulfilling me anymore
as i've previously mentioned, i've moved a lot in the past few years, usually once every year. after never moving, not even once in my childhood, it was definitely a big change. there's a scramble to pull together furniture and other possessions to make your home look like it has enough. this, for me, has been a huge trap. first of all, you can't satisfy yourself with possessions. you can only make yourself slightly more comfortable. second, stylistically, i've never really been forced (or even thought about, quite frankly) to define myself, my style. this has lead to a lot of collecting, of keeping objects that don't really "fit" with my space, because they now hold emotional value. i'm starting to learn to pull from those things to find a cohesive style.
my first home was one of four bedrooms in a third-floor apartment. for a while, my only furniture was a twin-sized mattress (on the floor), a navy butterfly chair, and a waist-high black wire shelving unit. all of my possessions fit into four plastic bins. i accumulated slowly. i bought a silver metal loft bed with an attached desk underneath (to date, the most expensive piece of furniture i've ever purchased). i bought a black metal futon, and shoulder-height black wire rack. for a while, the room seemed perfect: a place to sleep, a place to work, a place to lounge, and a way to organize. they all coordinated, by color and style, using basic materials. it was simple but held the necessities, small but light-filled, and i was happy.
there is a lot of emotion involved in purchasing, for some folks, and i guess i'm one of them. as i moved into progressively bigger residences, i acquired more stuff (furniture, clothing, decorative and personal accessories). i thought, somehow, that a nice house filled with nice things, would make me a more whole and better person. think again! my unhappiness with myself would grow, and i would feel the need to escape. my friends would help me pack, and schlep my stuff to the next residence. the final culmination of this insane thought process lead me into leasing a house that was far beyond my means, and far larger than one person should ever need. the sad part is that i didn't need to BUY any more furniture in order to put something in every room. every room doubled in size, but the furniture from my previous place still fit, in perfect proportion. when i left that house, i left behind a lot of emotional baggage, and donated almost two carloads of previously important possessions.
it's taken me nine months to come to terms with removing some of the rest of the dead weight, but with my furniture on the outs, i felt lighter, ready to move on. after a long week of work, i began to sort through my walk-in closet, an even bigger emotional minefield because it's tied directly to my body. i sorted items into several different categories. one group is clothing that i love and absolutely must keep, the essentials of my style and items i find myself washing once a week because i can't comprehend not having them available to wear. another group consists of items that fit and function, but that i either don't love or haven't worn more than a few times in the past year -- the maybe pile. there's a third pile of items that would be great and i would wear more often... if they were slightly altered (those of you who know me, know i often alter clothes temporarily on my own, but these are headed for a professional). the final group is the sell or donate pile, items that don't fit my body or my style. there's also, in my head, an entire line of conceptual clothes -- items i can't find in a particular color, cut, or fabric, but would love to own. thus, i recently bought a sewing machine in hopes of making them myself.
even still, the contents of my closet is cumbersome: there are long-sleeve layering tees and short sleeve layering tees, wear-alone tees and tank tops. there are dresses for hot days and hot nights, and skirts for when i'm feeling girly. there are low-slung leg-hugging jeans, and comfy cargo pants. there are shorts, for summer. there's even a floor-length dress, but i think i'll have it shortened to knee-length (impractical, in the city). there is a lot of clothing, and somehow, there still isn't enough. there aren't enough light-weight structured jackets for milder weather (though there are plenty of sleeveless tops needing them). there aren't enough of this one particular top that i wore so much last summer, that it's wearing through and getting pilly. there are never enough jeans that fit my ever-changing body perfectly. at least, now, i am starting to realize that clothing is just another of my artistic expressions. some works of art may be an immediate success, and some need additional work to become their best. some are just meant to be kept close for comfort (my favorite pajamas), and some are meant to display for all the world to see.
in the sell or donate pile, there are many items that no longer have a place. they were bought with a particular outfit in mind, or in an effort to be someone whom i'm not (that silk, pink flower-covered dress... or shimmering tops for nights on the town). some of these items are emotionally charged -- they embody a part of my personality (i can occasionally be girly and sweet), but they don't work for my actual body (a clinging silk dress? why did i buy that?!), and their presence is just a burden. shoes are the same... the two pairs of sling-back heels are only cute if i'm not going to walk for ten blocks, and the four pairs of suede boots make me stalk the weather forecast for an unusually precipitation-free day.
of course, you don't have to get rid of everything you love... you just have to decide what's worth schlepping across the country. what means enough that it's worth the sweat from my own brow? it's easy to hang on to things when someone else is shouldering the burden, but when you're doing it yourself, there's a certain amount of pretense that goes out the door and straight to the nearest donation center. beyond that, i'm sure, at some point, i'll end up repopulating my residence with encumbrances that make feel good. i can only strive to make sure that those items aren't trying to fill some big emotional hole in me, instead of the physical space where a couch should be.
my first home was one of four bedrooms in a third-floor apartment. for a while, my only furniture was a twin-sized mattress (on the floor), a navy butterfly chair, and a waist-high black wire shelving unit. all of my possessions fit into four plastic bins. i accumulated slowly. i bought a silver metal loft bed with an attached desk underneath (to date, the most expensive piece of furniture i've ever purchased). i bought a black metal futon, and shoulder-height black wire rack. for a while, the room seemed perfect: a place to sleep, a place to work, a place to lounge, and a way to organize. they all coordinated, by color and style, using basic materials. it was simple but held the necessities, small but light-filled, and i was happy.
there is a lot of emotion involved in purchasing, for some folks, and i guess i'm one of them. as i moved into progressively bigger residences, i acquired more stuff (furniture, clothing, decorative and personal accessories). i thought, somehow, that a nice house filled with nice things, would make me a more whole and better person. think again! my unhappiness with myself would grow, and i would feel the need to escape. my friends would help me pack, and schlep my stuff to the next residence. the final culmination of this insane thought process lead me into leasing a house that was far beyond my means, and far larger than one person should ever need. the sad part is that i didn't need to BUY any more furniture in order to put something in every room. every room doubled in size, but the furniture from my previous place still fit, in perfect proportion. when i left that house, i left behind a lot of emotional baggage, and donated almost two carloads of previously important possessions.
it's taken me nine months to come to terms with removing some of the rest of the dead weight, but with my furniture on the outs, i felt lighter, ready to move on. after a long week of work, i began to sort through my walk-in closet, an even bigger emotional minefield because it's tied directly to my body. i sorted items into several different categories. one group is clothing that i love and absolutely must keep, the essentials of my style and items i find myself washing once a week because i can't comprehend not having them available to wear. another group consists of items that fit and function, but that i either don't love or haven't worn more than a few times in the past year -- the maybe pile. there's a third pile of items that would be great and i would wear more often... if they were slightly altered (those of you who know me, know i often alter clothes temporarily on my own, but these are headed for a professional). the final group is the sell or donate pile, items that don't fit my body or my style. there's also, in my head, an entire line of conceptual clothes -- items i can't find in a particular color, cut, or fabric, but would love to own. thus, i recently bought a sewing machine in hopes of making them myself.
even still, the contents of my closet is cumbersome: there are long-sleeve layering tees and short sleeve layering tees, wear-alone tees and tank tops. there are dresses for hot days and hot nights, and skirts for when i'm feeling girly. there are low-slung leg-hugging jeans, and comfy cargo pants. there are shorts, for summer. there's even a floor-length dress, but i think i'll have it shortened to knee-length (impractical, in the city). there is a lot of clothing, and somehow, there still isn't enough. there aren't enough light-weight structured jackets for milder weather (though there are plenty of sleeveless tops needing them). there aren't enough of this one particular top that i wore so much last summer, that it's wearing through and getting pilly. there are never enough jeans that fit my ever-changing body perfectly. at least, now, i am starting to realize that clothing is just another of my artistic expressions. some works of art may be an immediate success, and some need additional work to become their best. some are just meant to be kept close for comfort (my favorite pajamas), and some are meant to display for all the world to see.
in the sell or donate pile, there are many items that no longer have a place. they were bought with a particular outfit in mind, or in an effort to be someone whom i'm not (that silk, pink flower-covered dress... or shimmering tops for nights on the town). some of these items are emotionally charged -- they embody a part of my personality (i can occasionally be girly and sweet), but they don't work for my actual body (a clinging silk dress? why did i buy that?!), and their presence is just a burden. shoes are the same... the two pairs of sling-back heels are only cute if i'm not going to walk for ten blocks, and the four pairs of suede boots make me stalk the weather forecast for an unusually precipitation-free day.
of course, you don't have to get rid of everything you love... you just have to decide what's worth schlepping across the country. what means enough that it's worth the sweat from my own brow? it's easy to hang on to things when someone else is shouldering the burden, but when you're doing it yourself, there's a certain amount of pretense that goes out the door and straight to the nearest donation center. beyond that, i'm sure, at some point, i'll end up repopulating my residence with encumbrances that make feel good. i can only strive to make sure that those items aren't trying to fill some big emotional hole in me, instead of the physical space where a couch should be.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
sorting it out
the freight elevator in my building has been out of order for a little over a week. most of the furniture was meant to be gone by now, but instead it lingers and stales the atmosphere. for the first time, my urgency to sort my possessions has taken a brief recess. lack of physical progression, though, has never seemed to halt my mental movements. my brain grinds at a frequency at which sometimes even i marvel. it tends to make me internally analytical, sometimes overly so, when i'm actually paying attention to it (as implied, i DO tune it out occasionally -- a girl needs to sleep sometimes). it also tends to make me wordy.
unlike my usual late-night insomniatic wonderings, my newest contemplations gripped me in the middle of the day: an undeniable case of the what-ifs. my what-ifs are particularly tricky because i'm fairly logical. i try to consider all of the possible outcomes, and along with that comes the dreaded worst case scenario. i won't elaborate on my own personal nightmare here, because even the thought of it is enough to make me stop in my tracks, paralyzed with fear, desperate for escape from a plan i've put in motion. of course, in considering the bad, i've learned i must also consider the good; not just of what could come, but what HAS come. looking back over the past year, i have made huge leaps and bounds in my personal emotional health. recalling that information, writing it all down, has helped to clear some of the cobwebs off of my dusty life plans and allowed me to make some new, revelatory conclusions.
for the first time in my life, i don't feel like i'm running away from something. i have been running, emotionally, for a long time, which is almost comical to me because i really dislike physical running. running for its own sake just seems pointless to me, and can even do damage to your body if done improperly. running, emotionally, does a different kind of damage. i've been pounding that pavement for years, in order to get far enough removed from my myriad of problems (distance equals self-control) to clear my head. i haven't been trying to escape, per se... just gain perspective (by the way, this is called denial). in reality, running from something bigger than you (life truths) doesn't make it go away -- it just means that it will eventually catch up with you and tackle you while you're breathless and unprepared.
i hadn't been weighing the potential outcome of willingly taking the hit, that it might make me stronger, not destroy me. so, i took a chance i've never previously taken -- i stopped running and stood still. i let grief and loss catch up with me. instead of the tackle i expected, it was more like high tide; not one, but continuous unrelenting waves. i thought, for a moment, that i'd drown, but instead i learned to float, then swim. when i finally hit the shore, for a few moments, i even wallowed in the shallows. i had grown accustomed to the tossing waves, the gasping for breath. it didn't feel right to stand on my own feet, to breathe unencumbered.
okay, enough of this big distracting metaphor -- flowery prose aside, in the past year, i finally faced a LOT of issues from my past. i really dug into myself and started to examine my intimacy issues and insecurities, about why i behave in certain ways, instead of only making excuses (such as "it's just who i am"). it's easy to focus on negative behaviors when you're self-critical, and difficult to see the good in yourself, especially when start attributing much of your entire being to external stimuli, and when so much of that stimuli is negative. fortunately, i've figured out that, as a result of the trials in my life, i'm a fairly strong person and not entirely dysfunctional -- i have the ability to actually examine myself and improve.
yes, i can see the events of the past through a much clearer lens, but i've also been able to think about the future in a way that is neither full of absolute denial or abject fear. i know that it's coming. i've even planned for it more than a few months in advance. i've made big life decisions and found something that that fits, for me, for now. it doesn't mean i don't still have fears about how my decisions will play out. what it does mean, though, is that i'm more prepared. of course, i'm still a little near-sighted, can't always see things completely clearly when they're very far away, but i can see vague shapes. looking ahead to my life six months in the future, i can see this giant looming in the distance:
it's entirely possible that i need to contemplate all of these major changes, in order to realize how beautiful my life has become. my life's beauty, much like new york's, is in its realism. i am human. i am subject to external forces, both good and bad, some of which i cannot control. however, i can control my reaction. enter, one of my oldest favorite quotes:
""i guess we are who we are for a lot of reasons. and maybe we'll never know most of them. but even if we don't have the power to choose where we come from, we can still choose where we go from there. we can still do things. and we can try to feel okay about them."
[charlie, from 'the perks of being a wallflower' by stephen chbosky]
the beauty of my humanity is something i can carry with me regardless of where i lay my head. it doesn't need a suitcase or bookshelf. it isn't reflected in my number of possessions, whether great or small. it is reflected in the value of the life i choose. it is reflected in the fact that i actually HAVE a choice, instead of just letting life happen to me.
the freight elevator is finally working again. the furniture is still waiting to be removed. it's an encumberance that can't remove itself (though i very much wish it could), but requires a vehicle to move it to its next destination. maybe moving to new york will be the next vehicle my life needs. or maybe not. maybe just the contemplation will be enough.
unlike my usual late-night insomniatic wonderings, my newest contemplations gripped me in the middle of the day: an undeniable case of the what-ifs. my what-ifs are particularly tricky because i'm fairly logical. i try to consider all of the possible outcomes, and along with that comes the dreaded worst case scenario. i won't elaborate on my own personal nightmare here, because even the thought of it is enough to make me stop in my tracks, paralyzed with fear, desperate for escape from a plan i've put in motion. of course, in considering the bad, i've learned i must also consider the good; not just of what could come, but what HAS come. looking back over the past year, i have made huge leaps and bounds in my personal emotional health. recalling that information, writing it all down, has helped to clear some of the cobwebs off of my dusty life plans and allowed me to make some new, revelatory conclusions.
for the first time in my life, i don't feel like i'm running away from something. i have been running, emotionally, for a long time, which is almost comical to me because i really dislike physical running. running for its own sake just seems pointless to me, and can even do damage to your body if done improperly. running, emotionally, does a different kind of damage. i've been pounding that pavement for years, in order to get far enough removed from my myriad of problems (distance equals self-control) to clear my head. i haven't been trying to escape, per se... just gain perspective (by the way, this is called denial). in reality, running from something bigger than you (life truths) doesn't make it go away -- it just means that it will eventually catch up with you and tackle you while you're breathless and unprepared.
i hadn't been weighing the potential outcome of willingly taking the hit, that it might make me stronger, not destroy me. so, i took a chance i've never previously taken -- i stopped running and stood still. i let grief and loss catch up with me. instead of the tackle i expected, it was more like high tide; not one, but continuous unrelenting waves. i thought, for a moment, that i'd drown, but instead i learned to float, then swim. when i finally hit the shore, for a few moments, i even wallowed in the shallows. i had grown accustomed to the tossing waves, the gasping for breath. it didn't feel right to stand on my own feet, to breathe unencumbered.
okay, enough of this big distracting metaphor -- flowery prose aside, in the past year, i finally faced a LOT of issues from my past. i really dug into myself and started to examine my intimacy issues and insecurities, about why i behave in certain ways, instead of only making excuses (such as "it's just who i am"). it's easy to focus on negative behaviors when you're self-critical, and difficult to see the good in yourself, especially when start attributing much of your entire being to external stimuli, and when so much of that stimuli is negative. fortunately, i've figured out that, as a result of the trials in my life, i'm a fairly strong person and not entirely dysfunctional -- i have the ability to actually examine myself and improve.
yes, i can see the events of the past through a much clearer lens, but i've also been able to think about the future in a way that is neither full of absolute denial or abject fear. i know that it's coming. i've even planned for it more than a few months in advance. i've made big life decisions and found something that that fits, for me, for now. it doesn't mean i don't still have fears about how my decisions will play out. what it does mean, though, is that i'm more prepared. of course, i'm still a little near-sighted, can't always see things completely clearly when they're very far away, but i can see vague shapes. looking ahead to my life six months in the future, i can see this giant looming in the distance:
it's entirely possible that i need to contemplate all of these major changes, in order to realize how beautiful my life has become. my life's beauty, much like new york's, is in its realism. i am human. i am subject to external forces, both good and bad, some of which i cannot control. however, i can control my reaction. enter, one of my oldest favorite quotes:
""i guess we are who we are for a lot of reasons. and maybe we'll never know most of them. but even if we don't have the power to choose where we come from, we can still choose where we go from there. we can still do things. and we can try to feel okay about them."
[charlie, from 'the perks of being a wallflower' by stephen chbosky]
the beauty of my humanity is something i can carry with me regardless of where i lay my head. it doesn't need a suitcase or bookshelf. it isn't reflected in my number of possessions, whether great or small. it is reflected in the value of the life i choose. it is reflected in the fact that i actually HAVE a choice, instead of just letting life happen to me.
the freight elevator is finally working again. the furniture is still waiting to be removed. it's an encumberance that can't remove itself (though i very much wish it could), but requires a vehicle to move it to its next destination. maybe moving to new york will be the next vehicle my life needs. or maybe not. maybe just the contemplation will be enough.
Monday, January 17, 2011
several social experiments later
a few nights after my solo movie jaunt, i found out that a great local band was playing at a new bar just down the street from my loft. going to a movie by myself didn't seem that taxing or adventurous. going to a bar alone would be a very different, and ambitious, undertaking. i wavered on the decision until i couldn't think of a truly valid reason not to go. i got lucky -- the first seat i happened upon was an empty single barstool. i had a drink, and chased it with several small ice waters. leaving my scarf and near-empty bag on the chair, i and my wallet lit off for the restroom. when i returned, another water was waiting. the band played mostly covers, and i sat, slowly sipping my second drink. i must have looked a little funny, sitting alone, smiling into my drink as i mouthed the words. when the band finished their set, i left, feeling silly. it wasn't nearly as difficult as i'd made it out to be.
saturday night, i saw the same band again, at a community arts theater. i caught maybe ten minutes of the show, due to leaving work late. in the rush to arrive, i forgot i'd need dinner. i should have known it was coming -- my bravery and logic make a great team. one of my regular haunts would definitely be open late and serving great food. i already seen a movie alone, gone to a bar alone, and attended a show alone. why not visit a favorite restaurant? sitting at the four-top booth, i ordered my dinner and whipped out my netbook. the other patrons chatted happily around me as i skimmed through photos and descriptions of new york apartments only barely in my price range. i tipped as though two people had eaten, and weaved through the crowd of smokers outside, to my waiting car. i thought about the number of blocks from the restaurant to my door, about the number of taxis almost always present outside on weekend nights. it was not so different from a manhattan neighborhood, and yet, a world away.
on sunday afternoon, i received a phone call from my grandmother. i figured, with facebook's axis of influence, that she would hear from someone (in my family) that i was selling my furniture and moving to new york. her voice raised in pitch as she questioned me gently, and i reassured her that i haven't made a decision yet, but that i am considering it. it's difficult for her to let go. it's difficult for me, too. she's getting older, and i hate to think that i'm missing any time with her that i won't be able to make up. then again, she has always been a big proponent of my dreams. she supported me as a poet and a musician, and applauded me when i finally found my heart in childcare. she believes in me, as a photographer, and prays for me daily. most important, she understands that i'm quite a bit different than the rest of my family. i only hope that those differences make me stronger, more able to handle life so far away from so much that i know and love.
saturday night, i saw the same band again, at a community arts theater. i caught maybe ten minutes of the show, due to leaving work late. in the rush to arrive, i forgot i'd need dinner. i should have known it was coming -- my bravery and logic make a great team. one of my regular haunts would definitely be open late and serving great food. i already seen a movie alone, gone to a bar alone, and attended a show alone. why not visit a favorite restaurant? sitting at the four-top booth, i ordered my dinner and whipped out my netbook. the other patrons chatted happily around me as i skimmed through photos and descriptions of new york apartments only barely in my price range. i tipped as though two people had eaten, and weaved through the crowd of smokers outside, to my waiting car. i thought about the number of blocks from the restaurant to my door, about the number of taxis almost always present outside on weekend nights. it was not so different from a manhattan neighborhood, and yet, a world away.
on sunday afternoon, i received a phone call from my grandmother. i figured, with facebook's axis of influence, that she would hear from someone (in my family) that i was selling my furniture and moving to new york. her voice raised in pitch as she questioned me gently, and i reassured her that i haven't made a decision yet, but that i am considering it. it's difficult for her to let go. it's difficult for me, too. she's getting older, and i hate to think that i'm missing any time with her that i won't be able to make up. then again, she has always been a big proponent of my dreams. she supported me as a poet and a musician, and applauded me when i finally found my heart in childcare. she believes in me, as a photographer, and prays for me daily. most important, she understands that i'm quite a bit different than the rest of my family. i only hope that those differences make me stronger, more able to handle life so far away from so much that i know and love.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
just like the movies
my current city, winston-salem, is a city of the arts. along the main drag in downtown, there are many bars and restaurants. there are also galleries, artist's lofts, and an art-house theater that shows lots of independent flicks. since i'd already eaten away at much of this month's plan to list/sell furniture, i decided to make my first visit to a/perture. first, i put feelers out on facebook, to see if anyone wanted to attend a movie with me. my only response was from a friend of a friend, three hours away. i realized that this, in and of itself, is what i can expect to encounter a lot when i move -- friends who only wish they could spend time with me. i decided to do something else that i expect will become normal for me, and go alone. i don't need to wait on the world to catch up, in order to do something i want to do.
if the neighborhood weren't ever-so-slightly unsafe, and the streets weren't hilly enough to leave me out of breath, i would have walked to the theater. if there had been a place to chain it, and if ice weren't on the road from the previous weekend's storm, i would have biked. these things didn't stop me from going out in new york, from walking the streets and stepping in the slush, from braving the bitter north winter winds. they are enough, here, to force me into a car to make a fifteen block trip, pay for parking in a garage, and run (not walk) around the corner to quickly get out of the cold. in new york, i am strong and brave, if a little reckless. in north carolina, i am obviously not.
i am, however, brave enough to go to a movie alone. i purchased a tiny one-person bag of popcorn, paid for my own ticket, and sat by myself. i lost myself in the world of the moving picture, and i enjoyed it. i didn't sit through the credits, as i have so many times with other people, because i dislike sitting through the credits. when the lights came up, i was already out the door, heading back to my car, playing the movie over in my head. i've been to the movies alone very few times in my life. i can count them on one hand, and probably name the movies. the only part i dislike about it is not having anyone with which to discuss the movie after the fact. my sense of accomplishment, of being able to go out alone, was galvanizing. there is always something to do in new york, at almost any hour of the day or night. there is always a way to get there, whether it's bus, subway, taxi, bike, or on foot. i don't anticipate not making any friends, but even if it's slow going, i should be able to appreciate at least this one activity alone.
if the neighborhood weren't ever-so-slightly unsafe, and the streets weren't hilly enough to leave me out of breath, i would have walked to the theater. if there had been a place to chain it, and if ice weren't on the road from the previous weekend's storm, i would have biked. these things didn't stop me from going out in new york, from walking the streets and stepping in the slush, from braving the bitter north winter winds. they are enough, here, to force me into a car to make a fifteen block trip, pay for parking in a garage, and run (not walk) around the corner to quickly get out of the cold. in new york, i am strong and brave, if a little reckless. in north carolina, i am obviously not.
i am, however, brave enough to go to a movie alone. i purchased a tiny one-person bag of popcorn, paid for my own ticket, and sat by myself. i lost myself in the world of the moving picture, and i enjoyed it. i didn't sit through the credits, as i have so many times with other people, because i dislike sitting through the credits. when the lights came up, i was already out the door, heading back to my car, playing the movie over in my head. i've been to the movies alone very few times in my life. i can count them on one hand, and probably name the movies. the only part i dislike about it is not having anyone with which to discuss the movie after the fact. my sense of accomplishment, of being able to go out alone, was galvanizing. there is always something to do in new york, at almost any hour of the day or night. there is always a way to get there, whether it's bus, subway, taxi, bike, or on foot. i don't anticipate not making any friends, but even if it's slow going, i should be able to appreciate at least this one activity alone.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
catching up to current
i've spent the past few days reliving all of my new york experiences, and posting postdated blogs about my feelings. i've revealed more about myself, to myself, than to anyone who might be reading. i've written things down that i didn't even realize i was feeling. i've cried, i've laughed, i've looked at photos and mementos. now it's time to begin the business of moving a life.
i've made a total of 5 major moves since age 18, not counting moving into and out of college dorms (which would add 4 to the total number). each move has been into a progressively bigger space, save this last one. each journey has been made with more and more possessions to fill the spaces, in a fit to find fulfillment in things. each uprooting has been accompanied by the best of friends who were willing to haul my stash, clean my cabinets, and throw me welcoming parties. i owe it to them to make this move alone. they're carried me for long enough. one set of words has haunted me: sell everything you own, to pay your way. it was a plan in the making, before i'd ever made a decision.
i never expected, when i listed several pieces of furniture for sale, that one person would come and buy most of it, all at once. gone are the vestiges of my comfortable, possession-choked life: the red couch, the monstrous entertainment center, the cheap desk, the fancy ottoman. she wants my decorative items, as well, and i'll be happy to oblige. left are only the pieces that i need to live between now and the summer -- a futon-like loveseat, several sets of foldable bookshelves, a low-slung entertainment center and television (both will eventually be sold), a full-size mattress set (will be given away). if it cannot fit in my car, it must stay behind. of course, if i sell my car and rent a minivan for the drive, i will be able to carry more, but they must be pieces i can carry myself. these are the things one considers when moving hundreds of miles away.
my plan consists of this:
in january, i will focus on furniture. this means taking inventory, listing any remaining items for sale, and acquiring replacements for required pieces that will travel well. again, i never thought i'd sell things so quickly, but this has left me time to conduct a few social experiments.
in february, i'll streamline my closet. i can't count on having a closet in new york, so this will be a big deal. clothing must multitask. layering is essential. all shoes that are only stylish, and not functional, must go. i've considered having a party at the end of the month, to sell any clothes, shoes, and handbags that don't make the cut.
in march, i'll destash my decoratives. there are a LOT of them, and in varied styles. some were made to fit stylistically in the 1870s house i rented last year, some for the mid-century house before that, some for my very first solo abode, and some still linger from my college days. there are also a lot of framed portraits of friends and family, which are especially dear because i photographed them.
in april, the technology and entertainment need to be condensed. books i didn't love will go back to the thrift store. any music i can muster will be digitized and backed up. my game system and all its peripherals are already listed for sale, but as a last resort, i'll put them up for online auction. both of my televisions are out of date, heavy boxes that likely won't travel with me. tv on dvd needs to stay -- it's my boredom savior.
in may, the last month of my lease in the loft, i will sell things directly related to being a nanny. when i was caring for my friend's young one on a daily basis, i acquired a lot of "things". now i've learned that most kids require very little, beyond love, attention, and enrichment, to be happy little people. i'm continuing to develop my childcare philosophies, and be able to explain them. plus, i won't be able to move, nor will i need, many of the things i've acquired.
may 31st approaches all too soon. and from there, who knows?
i've made a total of 5 major moves since age 18, not counting moving into and out of college dorms (which would add 4 to the total number). each move has been into a progressively bigger space, save this last one. each journey has been made with more and more possessions to fill the spaces, in a fit to find fulfillment in things. each uprooting has been accompanied by the best of friends who were willing to haul my stash, clean my cabinets, and throw me welcoming parties. i owe it to them to make this move alone. they're carried me for long enough. one set of words has haunted me: sell everything you own, to pay your way. it was a plan in the making, before i'd ever made a decision.
i never expected, when i listed several pieces of furniture for sale, that one person would come and buy most of it, all at once. gone are the vestiges of my comfortable, possession-choked life: the red couch, the monstrous entertainment center, the cheap desk, the fancy ottoman. she wants my decorative items, as well, and i'll be happy to oblige. left are only the pieces that i need to live between now and the summer -- a futon-like loveseat, several sets of foldable bookshelves, a low-slung entertainment center and television (both will eventually be sold), a full-size mattress set (will be given away). if it cannot fit in my car, it must stay behind. of course, if i sell my car and rent a minivan for the drive, i will be able to carry more, but they must be pieces i can carry myself. these are the things one considers when moving hundreds of miles away.
my plan consists of this:
in january, i will focus on furniture. this means taking inventory, listing any remaining items for sale, and acquiring replacements for required pieces that will travel well. again, i never thought i'd sell things so quickly, but this has left me time to conduct a few social experiments.
in february, i'll streamline my closet. i can't count on having a closet in new york, so this will be a big deal. clothing must multitask. layering is essential. all shoes that are only stylish, and not functional, must go. i've considered having a party at the end of the month, to sell any clothes, shoes, and handbags that don't make the cut.
in march, i'll destash my decoratives. there are a LOT of them, and in varied styles. some were made to fit stylistically in the 1870s house i rented last year, some for the mid-century house before that, some for my very first solo abode, and some still linger from my college days. there are also a lot of framed portraits of friends and family, which are especially dear because i photographed them.
in april, the technology and entertainment need to be condensed. books i didn't love will go back to the thrift store. any music i can muster will be digitized and backed up. my game system and all its peripherals are already listed for sale, but as a last resort, i'll put them up for online auction. both of my televisions are out of date, heavy boxes that likely won't travel with me. tv on dvd needs to stay -- it's my boredom savior.
in may, the last month of my lease in the loft, i will sell things directly related to being a nanny. when i was caring for my friend's young one on a daily basis, i acquired a lot of "things". now i've learned that most kids require very little, beyond love, attention, and enrichment, to be happy little people. i'm continuing to develop my childcare philosophies, and be able to explain them. plus, i won't be able to move, nor will i need, many of the things i've acquired.
may 31st approaches all too soon. and from there, who knows?
Thursday, January 6, 2011
the announcement and aftermath
2011 had entered with quiet grace, pushing me down a runway and into the clouds. more than the plane hung in the balance between sky and sea. for the first time, looking out the oval window of the aircraft, i saw my city from above. i saw it for its flaws and faults, for its snow-covered messy streets and whipping winds, for its ability to take in a refugee and spit out a survivor. i smiled to myself as the people across the aisle craned their necks to see the view out of the windows on my side. it was a new year, full of opportunities. perhaps it was a new york year.
when i returned to my loft, baggage in hand, art stared back at me. my walls were now covered with the products of my birthday party, when i'd had my friends over to paint canvases and decorate cupcakes. each had their personal impression, their interpretation of what would please me, their answer to the unspoken question of "what do you want me to create for you?". one canvas stood in the middle of them, one i'd painted when i first moved into "my new york in north carolina" some nine months earlier. it read from top to bottom:
i gazed around at my ill-matching red couch, the imposing entertainment center stacked high with books i'd read but not loved, the piles of clothes that fit neither my current style nor my body, and the bed i'd never been able to move into the windowless bedroom. i'd needed the light from the windows. i'd needed the airy space of the main room. i suddenly felt stifled by it all. with manhattan looking on, i tried to make myself at home, but everything felt ill-fitting. of my possessions, there was nothing left to hold on to, nothing left to lose that actually held real value. photographs of my friends loomed out from their various frames, their children's faces smiling. the possessions could be sold. the family i'd made, however, would be more difficult to separate from myself.
my first few days back at work were a blur of my ordinary motions. anyone could do this, i thought, as i picked up my nanny charge from preschool. anyone could do anything, and i could do this. i could move from this place. i could leave this life. it rang in the back of my mind. for two days, i went about my usual business. on the third, while a sweet toddler napped in the next room, i posted the status on facebook, step zero in my campaign:
"it's january 6th, 2011. do i have the guts to pick up and move to nyc in six months? do i have the determination and ingenuity to pare down my life so i can move anywhere using only my car, even if it's not nyc?"
the response was immediate and overwhelming, as was the range of emotions. of course, no one wants to lose me, but many are happy to see me follow through with something i've only talked about for four years. the most gut-wrenching reaction belongs to my best friend and his wife, who can barely bear to hear me mention it, whose son feels (in part) like my own. it was his seven month old, smiling face that greeted me at the airport. the cost of a round-trip train ticket from new york to north carolina and back is around $200. i can't help but wonder the cost of leaving.
when i returned to my loft, baggage in hand, art stared back at me. my walls were now covered with the products of my birthday party, when i'd had my friends over to paint canvases and decorate cupcakes. each had their personal impression, their interpretation of what would please me, their answer to the unspoken question of "what do you want me to create for you?". one canvas stood in the middle of them, one i'd painted when i first moved into "my new york in north carolina" some nine months earlier. it read from top to bottom:
M A N
H A T
T A N
i gazed around at my ill-matching red couch, the imposing entertainment center stacked high with books i'd read but not loved, the piles of clothes that fit neither my current style nor my body, and the bed i'd never been able to move into the windowless bedroom. i'd needed the light from the windows. i'd needed the airy space of the main room. i suddenly felt stifled by it all. with manhattan looking on, i tried to make myself at home, but everything felt ill-fitting. of my possessions, there was nothing left to hold on to, nothing left to lose that actually held real value. photographs of my friends loomed out from their various frames, their children's faces smiling. the possessions could be sold. the family i'd made, however, would be more difficult to separate from myself.
my first few days back at work were a blur of my ordinary motions. anyone could do this, i thought, as i picked up my nanny charge from preschool. anyone could do anything, and i could do this. i could move from this place. i could leave this life. it rang in the back of my mind. for two days, i went about my usual business. on the third, while a sweet toddler napped in the next room, i posted the status on facebook, step zero in my campaign:
"it's january 6th, 2011. do i have the guts to pick up and move to nyc in six months? do i have the determination and ingenuity to pare down my life so i can move anywhere using only my car, even if it's not nyc?"
the response was immediate and overwhelming, as was the range of emotions. of course, no one wants to lose me, but many are happy to see me follow through with something i've only talked about for four years. the most gut-wrenching reaction belongs to my best friend and his wife, who can barely bear to hear me mention it, whose son feels (in part) like my own. it was his seven month old, smiling face that greeted me at the airport. the cost of a round-trip train ticket from new york to north carolina and back is around $200. i can't help but wonder the cost of leaving.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
downhill and the way back up
this is the part where things get a little fuzzy, when life swept in to knock me off of my feet. it would be over a year (from july 2008 to july 2009) before i returned to new york. in november '08, only three weeks after quitting my day job, i started two new jobs -- one as a nanny, and one as a photographer. by february, my nanny clients moved out of the country, and my photographer position was simply seasonal. i posted an inquiry on craigslist and shortly secured another nanny position. in the meantime, i'd decided to throw myself whole-heartedly into my own photography business, and broke my lease on a great small house to move to a much larger, more expensive one on a commercial street. i'm not saying i entirely deserved every bit of bad that ran my way after that, but i will say that it's never a good idea to break a lease (unnecessarily), get a credit card (when you have no previous debt), and move (to a large, expensive live/work spot) in order to start a small business. it ended like many best-laid plans -- almost entirely laid to waste, and i with them.
the little boy whose nanny i'd become in march '09 was a soothing balm. my work wasn't easy, by any means, but it provided a necessarily fulfillment while the rest of my life crumbled around me. in july, his family was traveling by car to westchester county, ny, and asked me to ride along to keep him entertained. they knew i had friends in new jersey, and were more than happy to drop me off to spend the week until they needed me for the drive back to north carolina. again, new york renewed me, but this time, it took a bit longer than usual. my first few days were filled with stress and sleeping. i wandered around in a haze until at least the third day. my camera was ever-present, and i'd recently acquired a new lens (50mm 1.8), with which i captured the city in bits and bites. i ambled through the met, not once, but twice. i ate alone, long and luxurious meals that mildly annoyed the waitstaff. i got lost crossing central park. i rode the staten island ferry on its deck, hair blowing wildly, wanting to scream but holding it in. i dallied and lagged, stretching every single day into oblivion. i had no desire to return to north carolina and face the life i'd made.
i did return, though. every day felt the same, and though my situation needed a huge change, i had no energy to propel it. i have a history of making what appear to be snap decisions on some of the most important choices in my life. truth be told, i am very internal (part of why i struggle to write now). i think far too much for my own good, about every possible outcome. i rarely act without thoroughly examining, though sometimes circumstances allow me to make a decision sooner than i'd planned. my motto in latter years has become, "distance equals self-control." it was that distance, from the house i felt trapped in, from the friends i couldn't relate to, and even from my on-again off-again beau, that finally allowed me to see clearly. november '09 was one breaking point, and with it came the tearful ability to make a decision i'd been incapable of making previously. with that, the freedom to move on. i was determined, after my previous experience, not to violate the terms of my lease, but i began apartment-hunting in the new year. i found a beautiful loft that could function as a live-work space for photography, seven blocks from my nanny job. my best friend J christened it perfectly: "my new york in north carolina." crawling out of the deep, dark hole i'd dug was emotionally exhausting and ultimately, would become the most intimately revealing thing i've done to this point in my life.
a change of scenery wasn't my only need. i nixed all of my unhealthy relationships, and began to work on myself, peeling away the layers to discover what i am and am not. i also set about trying to correct some of the missteps i'd taken in the past two years, financially. with the weight lifted, i began to feel like an artist again. when my passion for art surged, in the past, i had felt my passion for everything else wane. the birth of my best friend's child in may '10 changed that. i spent over twenty four hours in the hospital with them, on the day leading up to his birth. camera in hand, i was able to mix my art, my love for my friends, and my love for children. suddenly, it didn't feel like a burden or a sacrifice -- it felt like exactly where i was supposed to be, at exactly the right time. suddenly, i was a thousand pieces defined, a whole human being. i could be an artist, and a care provider. i needed both, simultaneously, to feel complete. my worldview, my passions, my beliefs were all coming together into one great symphony, and i was finally in conducting it. add one tiny, fussing baby and two bewildered parents in want of any kind of guidance (mine included), and i felt in control of the world.
summer faded into fall, and into the coldest winter north carolina's seen since i was a child. new york was in the back of my mind, as always, but i knew a trip wasn't possible while trying to pay down my debts. i spent lots of time doing low-cost activities, like listening to bad karaoke with good people. my friend C joined me for one of these sessions, and we talked about the future and what it might hold, for both of us. he was considering heading back to japan; i, of course, spoke of new york, of my love for the city and a change of address that would likely never happen. a hundred questions and a hundred bad excuses later, he told me that if i really wanted to do it, then to do whatever it takes. sell everything you own. leave what you've come to call your life behind, and make a new one. if it will fulfill you, if it means this much, then just GO. this friend is not a dreamer, but a do-er, and was also pushing himself as much as he was pushing me. he'd also grown to know me well, and knew i was outgrowing my place. i left with no more reasons holding me back. i wanted new york, its culture, its inspiration; i wanted the me who i'd become as soon as i stepped out onto those city streets -- smart, self-sufficient, and satisfied. would i leave behind my family, my few friends, to pursue the life new york could offer?
the day before my 26th birthday, my employer surprised me with a proposal -- they were traveling up to westchester for christmas, and offered to pay my round-trip airfare if i'd fly up to keep the little one for a few days. in less than ten minutes, my flights were booked for a trip that would extend through the new year. christmas-time with my family was wonderful, but north carolina was promised a white christmas which held the potential to trap me in my hometown. meanwhile, a blizzard hit new york that closed the airports and shut down the city. we were all worried that i wouldn't be able to fly out, but the airports reopened just in time to make my mid-week flight. my two days alone with the kiddo, including our first overnights together, were relaxed and easy. when our time was over, i took the train from ossining to grand central. i dragged myself and my luggage through the remnants of heavy snow, through times square to port authority, where i boarded a bus and headed for a familiar couch. i was a new york girl again. this time, i was also a whole person, confident and collected. i no longer needed the city to complete me. instead, i could come with open arms, embrace it, and add to it. when the time came to board the return flight, i wondered if i would return to my new york as a visitor or a resident. my answer wasn't as far away as i'd imagined.
the little boy whose nanny i'd become in march '09 was a soothing balm. my work wasn't easy, by any means, but it provided a necessarily fulfillment while the rest of my life crumbled around me. in july, his family was traveling by car to westchester county, ny, and asked me to ride along to keep him entertained. they knew i had friends in new jersey, and were more than happy to drop me off to spend the week until they needed me for the drive back to north carolina. again, new york renewed me, but this time, it took a bit longer than usual. my first few days were filled with stress and sleeping. i wandered around in a haze until at least the third day. my camera was ever-present, and i'd recently acquired a new lens (50mm 1.8), with which i captured the city in bits and bites. i ambled through the met, not once, but twice. i ate alone, long and luxurious meals that mildly annoyed the waitstaff. i got lost crossing central park. i rode the staten island ferry on its deck, hair blowing wildly, wanting to scream but holding it in. i dallied and lagged, stretching every single day into oblivion. i had no desire to return to north carolina and face the life i'd made.
i did return, though. every day felt the same, and though my situation needed a huge change, i had no energy to propel it. i have a history of making what appear to be snap decisions on some of the most important choices in my life. truth be told, i am very internal (part of why i struggle to write now). i think far too much for my own good, about every possible outcome. i rarely act without thoroughly examining, though sometimes circumstances allow me to make a decision sooner than i'd planned. my motto in latter years has become, "distance equals self-control." it was that distance, from the house i felt trapped in, from the friends i couldn't relate to, and even from my on-again off-again beau, that finally allowed me to see clearly. november '09 was one breaking point, and with it came the tearful ability to make a decision i'd been incapable of making previously. with that, the freedom to move on. i was determined, after my previous experience, not to violate the terms of my lease, but i began apartment-hunting in the new year. i found a beautiful loft that could function as a live-work space for photography, seven blocks from my nanny job. my best friend J christened it perfectly: "my new york in north carolina." crawling out of the deep, dark hole i'd dug was emotionally exhausting and ultimately, would become the most intimately revealing thing i've done to this point in my life.
a change of scenery wasn't my only need. i nixed all of my unhealthy relationships, and began to work on myself, peeling away the layers to discover what i am and am not. i also set about trying to correct some of the missteps i'd taken in the past two years, financially. with the weight lifted, i began to feel like an artist again. when my passion for art surged, in the past, i had felt my passion for everything else wane. the birth of my best friend's child in may '10 changed that. i spent over twenty four hours in the hospital with them, on the day leading up to his birth. camera in hand, i was able to mix my art, my love for my friends, and my love for children. suddenly, it didn't feel like a burden or a sacrifice -- it felt like exactly where i was supposed to be, at exactly the right time. suddenly, i was a thousand pieces defined, a whole human being. i could be an artist, and a care provider. i needed both, simultaneously, to feel complete. my worldview, my passions, my beliefs were all coming together into one great symphony, and i was finally in conducting it. add one tiny, fussing baby and two bewildered parents in want of any kind of guidance (mine included), and i felt in control of the world.
summer faded into fall, and into the coldest winter north carolina's seen since i was a child. new york was in the back of my mind, as always, but i knew a trip wasn't possible while trying to pay down my debts. i spent lots of time doing low-cost activities, like listening to bad karaoke with good people. my friend C joined me for one of these sessions, and we talked about the future and what it might hold, for both of us. he was considering heading back to japan; i, of course, spoke of new york, of my love for the city and a change of address that would likely never happen. a hundred questions and a hundred bad excuses later, he told me that if i really wanted to do it, then to do whatever it takes. sell everything you own. leave what you've come to call your life behind, and make a new one. if it will fulfill you, if it means this much, then just GO. this friend is not a dreamer, but a do-er, and was also pushing himself as much as he was pushing me. he'd also grown to know me well, and knew i was outgrowing my place. i left with no more reasons holding me back. i wanted new york, its culture, its inspiration; i wanted the me who i'd become as soon as i stepped out onto those city streets -- smart, self-sufficient, and satisfied. would i leave behind my family, my few friends, to pursue the life new york could offer?
the day before my 26th birthday, my employer surprised me with a proposal -- they were traveling up to westchester for christmas, and offered to pay my round-trip airfare if i'd fly up to keep the little one for a few days. in less than ten minutes, my flights were booked for a trip that would extend through the new year. christmas-time with my family was wonderful, but north carolina was promised a white christmas which held the potential to trap me in my hometown. meanwhile, a blizzard hit new york that closed the airports and shut down the city. we were all worried that i wouldn't be able to fly out, but the airports reopened just in time to make my mid-week flight. my two days alone with the kiddo, including our first overnights together, were relaxed and easy. when our time was over, i took the train from ossining to grand central. i dragged myself and my luggage through the remnants of heavy snow, through times square to port authority, where i boarded a bus and headed for a familiar couch. i was a new york girl again. this time, i was also a whole person, confident and collected. i no longer needed the city to complete me. instead, i could come with open arms, embrace it, and add to it. when the time came to board the return flight, i wondered if i would return to my new york as a visitor or a resident. my answer wasn't as far away as i'd imagined.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
a double triptych of trips
it is so difficult to condense and be concise with my thoughts, especially since this is a retrospective. i'm four years removed from my first new york minute, and the details still burn bright in my mind. i am a recorder, a maker of photographs for memories, but i need very few to remember each of the six visits i've made to new york. my life has changed so drastically here in north carolina since that first fumbling trip. my hair is a foot shorter, and when i look in the mirror, i can see myself and know i'm figuring it all out. i'm finding, no, making a place for myself in the world. putting that into words has been a struggle.
new york isn't magical to me. it isn't all romance and movie scenes. it's real, and i respect the city, its grit and grandeur. my family, for the most part, doesn't understand my predilection. they're the type of folks who have spent most of their life living in the same small towns in sleepy eastern north carolina, which is perfectly respectable. sure, some of them travel -- some even more extensively than me (which isn't difficult, when you haven't left the east coast) and to more exotic locales. when part of my extended family wanted to visit new york a mere eight months after my first enchanting trip, i couldn't pass up the opportunity to play tour guide to my favorite city. it was at this time i attended my first new york museum, the guggenheim, and started to understand that new york was more than simply manhattan. i took my first cruise down the hudson, saw the island from afar, and realized there was so much of it i'd never experienced (including the other four boroughs). my perspective widened and my curiosity heightened.
after shuffling through new york with two very different groups of people on two very different trips, i was ready to have the city to myself for once. in spring 2008, i spent a week couch-crashing in jersey for a much-needed holiday. on my very first night, i was privy to a dichotomy of northern real estate. my friend A lives in a 3 bedroom luxury apartment in union city. he shares it with two roommates, and all three commute at least an hour a day to and from manhattan for work. another friend and his wife rent a tiny junior one-bedroom in greenwich village, where my knees touched the door while sitting on the toilet, and the shower was in the kitchen beside the sink, but it was only steps away from a thousand different activities at any hour of the day or night. the greenwich apartment was more expensive, and you had to climb five skinny flights of stairs to reach it.
it reminded me that there is a price for everything, including the two years i've worked in a soul-sucking office job. i thought my reasoning was fairly simple -- make enough money so that i don't have to worry so much anymore. the cost has been high, though. there was no art in my life, no mental energy left after a nine to five day doing something which has so little meaning to me. i'd stopped making music. i'd stopped writing and painting.
new york began to open itself to me during this visit, unfolding its streets and folding me in. i began to be able to navigate on my own, and spent entire days in the city with little guidance, moving easily between neighborhoods. i visited museums, relaxed in parks, ate amazing food. i remembered what it felt like to be human, to appreciate creation, and to create for myself (via photography, my not-so-new hobby, err, obsession). the solitude was therapeutic in a way i could neither deny nor entirely comprehend. new york was capturing me, one block at a time.
my next visit was a short three months later, in late summer. another group trip. music kept me coming to the city (this was our second music-related trip -- this time, we went to see les paul play). this quote from my july 30th, 2008, journal entry is fairly telling:
"back from new york. not thrilled to be, but oh well. back to the daily grind at the job i pretty much hate. this trip was okay. not my best ever, but still pretty fun... of course, i'm a little sad to be back here [nc], working and not playing. i always enjoy my times in ny/nj, and with A, and with my friends. it was a good vacation, probably the last one i'll have in a while. i am really looking forward to some interviews i may have this week, and working with my new photographer friend mac, and moving on with my life. who knows when my next new york adventure will be, or under what circumstances. i'll be waiting though. i miss my skyline."
in two months, i would quit my office job. with no back-up plan and no well-paying prospects in sight, i immediately delved back into the one uncomplicated part of my life -- caring for children. i forgotten how much i loved it, how simple and satisfying it could be. i also started to push myself with photography, to learn the camera and how to make it capture my worldview. i did another informative (but slightly soul-sucking) short stint in a job i didn't love, as a mall studio photographer. i also started to call myself what i'd become -- a nanny. at this point, my brain rationalized that childcare was a means to an end, a way to make the money i needed to support the artist i was once again becoming. i thought i would eventually need to choose between them, to be either a nanny or an artist. i couldn't fathom how much the two would inform one another and pave a path towards my future.
new york isn't magical to me. it isn't all romance and movie scenes. it's real, and i respect the city, its grit and grandeur. my family, for the most part, doesn't understand my predilection. they're the type of folks who have spent most of their life living in the same small towns in sleepy eastern north carolina, which is perfectly respectable. sure, some of them travel -- some even more extensively than me (which isn't difficult, when you haven't left the east coast) and to more exotic locales. when part of my extended family wanted to visit new york a mere eight months after my first enchanting trip, i couldn't pass up the opportunity to play tour guide to my favorite city. it was at this time i attended my first new york museum, the guggenheim, and started to understand that new york was more than simply manhattan. i took my first cruise down the hudson, saw the island from afar, and realized there was so much of it i'd never experienced (including the other four boroughs). my perspective widened and my curiosity heightened.
after shuffling through new york with two very different groups of people on two very different trips, i was ready to have the city to myself for once. in spring 2008, i spent a week couch-crashing in jersey for a much-needed holiday. on my very first night, i was privy to a dichotomy of northern real estate. my friend A lives in a 3 bedroom luxury apartment in union city. he shares it with two roommates, and all three commute at least an hour a day to and from manhattan for work. another friend and his wife rent a tiny junior one-bedroom in greenwich village, where my knees touched the door while sitting on the toilet, and the shower was in the kitchen beside the sink, but it was only steps away from a thousand different activities at any hour of the day or night. the greenwich apartment was more expensive, and you had to climb five skinny flights of stairs to reach it.
it reminded me that there is a price for everything, including the two years i've worked in a soul-sucking office job. i thought my reasoning was fairly simple -- make enough money so that i don't have to worry so much anymore. the cost has been high, though. there was no art in my life, no mental energy left after a nine to five day doing something which has so little meaning to me. i'd stopped making music. i'd stopped writing and painting.
new york began to open itself to me during this visit, unfolding its streets and folding me in. i began to be able to navigate on my own, and spent entire days in the city with little guidance, moving easily between neighborhoods. i visited museums, relaxed in parks, ate amazing food. i remembered what it felt like to be human, to appreciate creation, and to create for myself (via photography, my not-so-new hobby, err, obsession). the solitude was therapeutic in a way i could neither deny nor entirely comprehend. new york was capturing me, one block at a time.
my next visit was a short three months later, in late summer. another group trip. music kept me coming to the city (this was our second music-related trip -- this time, we went to see les paul play). this quote from my july 30th, 2008, journal entry is fairly telling:
"back from new york. not thrilled to be, but oh well. back to the daily grind at the job i pretty much hate. this trip was okay. not my best ever, but still pretty fun... of course, i'm a little sad to be back here [nc], working and not playing. i always enjoy my times in ny/nj, and with A, and with my friends. it was a good vacation, probably the last one i'll have in a while. i am really looking forward to some interviews i may have this week, and working with my new photographer friend mac, and moving on with my life. who knows when my next new york adventure will be, or under what circumstances. i'll be waiting though. i miss my skyline."
in two months, i would quit my office job. with no back-up plan and no well-paying prospects in sight, i immediately delved back into the one uncomplicated part of my life -- caring for children. i forgotten how much i loved it, how simple and satisfying it could be. i also started to push myself with photography, to learn the camera and how to make it capture my worldview. i did another informative (but slightly soul-sucking) short stint in a job i didn't love, as a mall studio photographer. i also started to call myself what i'd become -- a nanny. at this point, my brain rationalized that childcare was a means to an end, a way to make the money i needed to support the artist i was once again becoming. i thought i would eventually need to choose between them, to be either a nanny or an artist. i couldn't fathom how much the two would inform one another and pave a path towards my future.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)