then again, maybe it is just me

so i stood back.

a little awed.

a little moved.

and mostly unnerved by the vacuum forming in my stomach.

i was trying to fill it.

trying to avoid the nauseous rush

that tends to arrive with nerves.

trying to remember where we came from.

our roots.

how we got here.

if this road, was the right road.

if there was any other choice.

and, alas, there was not.

you may forget many things.

my only wish is that you will never forget that

that i look up to you.

always have.

always will.

B

because it is brilliant

and oh so relevant...


read this.

let it be known,
i frown upon diets as well.

how about some alternative new years goals?
your body deserves it!

to the year of greatness

i have not made new years resolutions.

you may peg me as a pessimist.

but you would be wrong.

i am just trying to avoid the burnout that usually accompanies my huge list of things i need to accomplish.

instead,

i have created three simple rules:

one

survive.

in approximately 3 weeks, i will be thick into french.

struggling, struggling, to defeat my vernacular

that makes me sound like belligerent spanish cow

attempting to speak french.

and, i must survive without taking up a coffee addiction.

wine and cheese are acceptable.

two.

push the limits of my yoga practice.

it will go something like this

hi foot! you are going behind my head.

hi other foot! you are now joining foot one behind my head.

be nice to each other, we will be here for five verrryyy long breaths.

three.

and, lastly, have more fun.

i will have 2.5 jobs this semester (yes, it is possible to have a half job)

and will be in desperate need of fun.

cheers to twenty twelve!

may we all love, laugh and prosper in the months to come.

unpreparedness

there are things that nobody tells you.
not just any old things, life things. life necessities.

how quickly you can be taken in. you will succumb rather quickly. and nonchalantly.
it may take just one or two nights of that weight beside you. the even breathing.
the midnight escapes and returns to find an arm reached out, searching for you.
the creak of the bed as you slide in and the hooked arm that pulls you to their chest.

quickly. you will succumb.

and, so, your once familiar haven becomes a place of loneliness.
books lay beside you, attempting to mimic. but they cannot.
what is a girl to do? aside from picking up that book and reading into a world of sleepiness.

and, then, you will succumb.

america pacifica by anna north

in this dystopian work, the mainland has encountered a second ice age

leaving all of its inhabitants with nothing but a ship to a new island, partly made of sinking landfill.

it is a new world. and, yet, it has carried over many characteristics of the mainland; classism, drug use and revolutionaries.

the island is blatantly classist. the first-boaters are gifted with living a life that does not seem too different than the one they lived on the mainland. they can go to school, they can have homes and they can have real food.

the last boaters struggle everyday to get by. they live on fake cheese, jellyfish steak, low education and even lower living standards.

all in all, north's dystopian vision is leering, logical and alarming.

the main character, a young last-boater named darcy

must tackle all of life's challenges

in order to find her mother, who disappears after a stranger visits their

yellow-stained apartment to speak with her in hushed tones.

little does she know,

she will soon be a heroine.

north has created a tale worth pondering

filled with pain, revolutions, hope, grief and the best/worst of humankind.

"He said that living the way we used to - trying to shape the world rather than letting it shape us - he thought that was what got us into the Ice Age in the first place"

- North, America Pacifica

(un)healthy

my body and i,
we have this relationship.

it goes a little something like this..

dear body,
you work really hard for me what with all the inconsistent marathon training and strenuous (or "relaxing") yoga poses. you walk me everywhere, make sure i can breathe, see, talk, laugh. you are actually pretty miraculous and never seem to let me down. and i appreciate that. i appreciate that so much that i treat you well (or i try to) what with all the greens, exercise, lotion and sauna visits.
i promise not to hate on you even though everyone else in society thinks i should.
and i promise not to chastise you if i enjoy food a little too much and eat a little more than is reasonable for a person my size.

it's mutual, really.

however, i feel like i owe myself an apology.
i am out of my usual rhythm of life now that i am on holidays.

i stay up late
i sleep in late
i feed myself overpriced lattes and political headlines
sometimes i don't feed myself at all
sometimes i get too wrapped up in a book
and before i know it, it is suddenly 2 in the afternoon
and my poor tummy is making a very strong point.

i am attempting to strive on an all-greek-yogurt-diet
which is inflaming my minor intolerance to lactose.
and, yet, who could resist the merciless vice of black cherry creamy yogurt?!

i ate so many christmas oranges
that my tongue is practically burnt right off.

i keep moving my toothbrush from one bathroom to the next,
and it never seems to be exactly where i need it at that time.
let us not even discuss flossing.
that is between my teeth, me and the dentist once a year.

my right hip has been screaming in agony for approximately a week
if i was not so busy ignoring it, i would know that it is demanding a massage.

so, dearest body,
i am sorry!
i promise to do better.
i promise to no longer substitute a well balanced meal for honey toast and a protein bar (although, it could be worse...couldn't it?)

much love,
b

Source: smalltypes.com via Stacey on Pinterest

fiction ruined my family by jeanne darst

it is true
it has been awhile
since a book has made me feel uncomfortable

not because of the content
not because of the words

darst's presentation and choice of words is striking.
i never questioned her talent.
it is pure. raw. oozing out of each page.

it is her life, her gusto, her view of the world
that shook me.

not that i am complaining.
after all, a good book should move you.
should force you into introspection.
into the parts of your psyche that you may or may not be ready to visit.

darst lives this semi-charmed life
the life of an artist
in which, she is always unsure of the future
broke
and seemingly lost in a capitalistic world that cannot understand her reasoning.

she believes she inherited this life from her father, also an artist of sorts.
a writer.
who has been writing his first project for years.
darst's enfance, adolescence and adulthood are soaked in this project.
it affects her and her siblings, three sisters, in ways that no one could predict.

and, like her mother, darst was an alcoholic.

alas, we have ourselves a tale of family, inheritance, pain, addiction and following your passion.
even when others cannot. a tale lined with wit and humour. a tale that will grab you instantly.

darsts recollection of her life, her mother's death, her father's guilt and the brilliance of the "project" that seems to encompass every list bit of their relationship is moving.

read it.
i promise that you will not be able to put it down.

so, please, step into darst's semi-charmed life.

life lessons

in its rawest form.

gawk
ingest
live.

the lowdown on the meltdown

knitting projects unravelled: 8
balls of yarn purchased: 3
youtube videos watched: 20
failed projects: 7
self-esteem: non-existent
desire to craft: less than 0

times like this

it was times like this that she would do it.

unsuspecting.
quiet.
lonley.
filled with melancholy.

she was likely looking for answers
but, as per usual,
she was looking in all the wrong places.

as if a photograph could explain it.
ths shifting of her life.
the immediate change.
the uneasiness.

it cannot.
but that does not mean she wouldn't try.
she wouldn't focus on this photograph.
looking for signs.
symbols.
foreshadowing.

she tested herself, really.
how deep can you go
before the pain becomes unbareable
before you reach out.
before you stop.

she always found her limits.

like any true addict, she was searching for them now.
they, as per usual, were there.
just waiting
aching
to be discovered.

Source: flickr.com via Madi on Pinterest