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Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Monday, April 18, 2011
grandfather and grandson. part of the 1st birthday suite. made the mother cry. i am okay with that.
i will be taking three days off of work to do a large mothers day photoparty (that the tearful mother is arranging!) and i will be making more in three days than in forty hours at my latte job. i am okay with that.
i am going to grad school in the fall in colorado. i have two job offers out there. i am so excited and scared out of my mind. i am okay with that.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Monday, March 28, 2011
by david chancellor. here is his webpage.
he is a photographer from south africa but i am really drawn to the pieces that have a flavor of the american west.
something about these resonate on a level with me that has to do with being totally outside. vastness of air and dirt. the feeling of being lonely and safe, or unsafe, of solidarity. you do not stay too still for too long at the same time that your motion comparative to the landscape is so insignificant that this necessary motion is meaningless, is rendered into stillness.
it is difficult to find the same whirling stillness in the city where i currently live.
the photographs also resonate on a level concerning personal strength and integrity. maybe the feeling is just a product of the aforementioned outside-ness -- of how the sense of self becomes distilled. i am jealous of this girl's sure look.
i know that i am romanticizing but i need to do it right now.
i need dirt and sunburn and outside-aloneness!
Monday, March 21, 2011
Sunday, March 20, 2011
there is a certain kind of everybody's grandfather who has survived the war (wherever the war was) who likes bear claws. "don't bother putting it in a bag."
i am profiling you.
men talk to me more when i wear makeup.
it is warm and i have money now but am still working on the part with "friends". two weeks ago i went out with a guy from work. i had spent all day in bed with a fever and probably should have stayed there, but i was determined to not cancel my first (and only) social event in the seven months since i have moved here. i felt as though i had forgotten how to have a face-to-face honest conversation; i'm not so good at it any more.
very much a sea of aloneness and my hair smells like bread. is this adulthood?
i am profiling you.
men talk to me more when i wear makeup.
it is warm and i have money now but am still working on the part with "friends". two weeks ago i went out with a guy from work. i had spent all day in bed with a fever and probably should have stayed there, but i was determined to not cancel my first (and only) social event in the seven months since i have moved here. i felt as though i had forgotten how to have a face-to-face honest conversation; i'm not so good at it any more.
very much a sea of aloneness and my hair smells like bread. is this adulthood?
Friday, February 4, 2011
i used to frequently cry during shavasana, back when i did yoga. sometimes it was like i finally reached a well of sadness that i hadn't known was there; sometimes it was just crying. it was embarrassing, at least, as soon as the lights were turned on and i rolled up my mat. and then i started having parallel experiences in my piano lessons.
one of the first times it hit me, we were working on a mompou cancion y danza. my teacher stopped me partway through the first phrase.
"stop," she said, "you just need to stop caring what i think and play from yourself."
so i started again from the top, and starting crying almost immediately. i cried all the way through the piece, through the end of the lesson, and through my kickboxing class afterwards. but i played it really well. my teacher was very pleased.
about a year later, i was working with another teacher on the first movement of the bach concerto in d minor. she was playing the orchestra part and yelling at me at the same time. it wasnt until i gave in and started crying as i was playing that the sound changed in the right way. she immediately noticed the change and commended it. i cried to the end of the concerto and at the end she said, "that was very good, emily."
had another lesson, again, last night. a schumann song, without a singer. it is a technically very simple piece, we took it at a meditative 60% tempo and it was the same feeling again, this welling up. this time, though, i wasn't willing to give in and start spontaneously sobbing in front of my new teacher. (i'm pretty sure he already thinks i'm off my rocker.) (maybe i am.) so i missed the point.
i used to have frequent dreams about the end of the world or the death of everybody. they'd happen two or three times a week and invovle large bodies of water rising over a city, the climbing of mountains as refugees, the systematic slaughter of a community with poison, dogs, guns, what have you. in spite of them being really awful dreams, i was only ever watching them and would wake up feeling fine.
it was last spring that i think i stopped having them, and this week, they're back. i've had three of these in about as many days and this time i'm feeling them, too, the horrible nightmarish part.
the one from last night was populated mostly by children. those of us who had survived hiked to the top of a hill covered in black scree and sat in a circle. we posted sentries, who wore garbage bags over their heads. at this point, the enemy (whoever they were) set dogs against us and came and threw the bodies into a van. and then i woke up.
obviously there is something i need to be working through right now but i have no idea what it is.
one of the first times it hit me, we were working on a mompou cancion y danza. my teacher stopped me partway through the first phrase.
"stop," she said, "you just need to stop caring what i think and play from yourself."
so i started again from the top, and starting crying almost immediately. i cried all the way through the piece, through the end of the lesson, and through my kickboxing class afterwards. but i played it really well. my teacher was very pleased.
about a year later, i was working with another teacher on the first movement of the bach concerto in d minor. she was playing the orchestra part and yelling at me at the same time. it wasnt until i gave in and started crying as i was playing that the sound changed in the right way. she immediately noticed the change and commended it. i cried to the end of the concerto and at the end she said, "that was very good, emily."
had another lesson, again, last night. a schumann song, without a singer. it is a technically very simple piece, we took it at a meditative 60% tempo and it was the same feeling again, this welling up. this time, though, i wasn't willing to give in and start spontaneously sobbing in front of my new teacher. (i'm pretty sure he already thinks i'm off my rocker.) (maybe i am.) so i missed the point.
i used to have frequent dreams about the end of the world or the death of everybody. they'd happen two or three times a week and invovle large bodies of water rising over a city, the climbing of mountains as refugees, the systematic slaughter of a community with poison, dogs, guns, what have you. in spite of them being really awful dreams, i was only ever watching them and would wake up feeling fine.
it was last spring that i think i stopped having them, and this week, they're back. i've had three of these in about as many days and this time i'm feeling them, too, the horrible nightmarish part.
the one from last night was populated mostly by children. those of us who had survived hiked to the top of a hill covered in black scree and sat in a circle. we posted sentries, who wore garbage bags over their heads. at this point, the enemy (whoever they were) set dogs against us and came and threw the bodies into a van. and then i woke up.
obviously there is something i need to be working through right now but i have no idea what it is.
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