Monday, January 30, 2012

photos of my day.

some bracelets i wore.

vera wang lovestruck.

 what i am reading.

a sketch i did in the margin.

Sunday, January 29, 2012

[colors] series - cobalt blue.

annamarie is drawn to a stall in the outdoor market much different from all the others - instead of fruits or hats or jewelry, this tent in particular offers a multitude of vibrant powders, bag upon bag of every color she can imagine.

"what are they for?" she asks the vendor with a curiosity she thought she left behind in her childhood.

instead of replying, the man pulls a small glass vial from underneath the counter and fills it with bright [cobalt blue].

"only a dollar - it will bring you luck," he says as he hands it to her.

as annamarie is walking home, she wonders to herself why she agreed to buy the bottle of pigment from the market - she wants to say it is because she felt sorry for the man and not because she still believes in such silly things as luck and [cobalt blue] dreams.  


more on the [colors] series - original post and other entries

Saturday, January 28, 2012

there is something undoubtedly enthralling about balloons.

perhaps it is in the way the afternoon sunlight catches off their slick plastic surfaces and casts a rainbow of whimsical shadows behind you.

or maybe it's because the seemingly weightless spheres bring back wistful memories of your childhood.

but for me, it is in that fleeting hope that perhaps if you'd just had one more, if you could just run fast enough, that you could jump with all your might and never come back down, floating away on happiness and whisper thin wishes.
links - | 1 | 2 | 3 |

Friday, January 27, 2012

the circus arrives without warning.

“because i do not wish to know,” he says. “i prefer to remain unenlightened, to better appreciate the dark.”

- erin morgenstern, the night circus

Thursday, January 26, 2012

song of myself.

a word cloud i made via wordle with walt whitman's song of myself, which can be found here

solace awaits in the darkness.

today was one of those days where you wish you could forget everything. everything in your history. everything that currently surrounds you and, most importantly, every single thought you have that has to do with your expectations for the future. today was one of those days where you wanted to forget how to breathe – or simply wish not to breathe. to have an escape, and to be anywhere but here.

the photos were taken last year for a digital photography project on capturing emotion. i used a long exposure (15 seconds) to get the effect on the second picture. 

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

it is not a particularly attractive couch.

it is blatantly obvious that the couch does not match with the rest of the living room. 

friends are always teasing me that it looks like their grandmother's wallpaper or the hideous pants their great aunt bought them. mom is always threatening to drag the couch out herself if i don't get rid of it. i'll laugh or brush them off or change the subject, but i always find an excuse. 

and it's not that i think the couch is particularly attractive either. 

but it reminds me of him. 

and sometimes if i sit there long enough, i can still catch fleeting wisps of his cologne or the aftershave he used to use. but perhaps it is just my imagination. it has been several years, after all. 

but whatever it is about that couch, it makes me remember how he used to hold me and tell me stories until i fell asleep in his arms and how every morning we would take turns trying to figure out the crossword puzzle before giving up in favor of cuddling or poetry or coffee.

and i cannot bear to get rid of it.

it makes it easier for me to forget that he is never coming back.

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

rube goldbergs.

are incredibly amusing. the whole idea of making a complicated yet elegant machine to accomplish a very simple task is just absolutely ridiculous and hilarious.

live colorfully - polyvore.

i wish i could pull off a look like this, but i don't have enough colorful clothes to color block. here is a link.

Sunday, January 22, 2012

[colors] series - faded pink.

it is 2 a.m. on october 15th and marcus slides into the last [faded pink] booth in an empty diner that he has been to many times before. 

he waits patiently until a half asleep waitress appears to take his order. 

"two banana milkshakes with extra chocolate chips," he says, explaining that it is his and his wife's fifty-first anniversary with a far away sadness that the waitress is unable to place.

he protests as she explains that they no longer serve banana milkshakes and asks if there is anything else she can get for him. 

she does not understand when the elderly man says "no" and begins to cry, mumbling "alicia" over and over again as he sits in the [faded pink] booth until the sun comes up. 


more on the [colors] series - original post and other entries

[colors] series.

every sunday.

a color.

a photo.

a five sentence story.

let the journey begin.

where dreams come from.

"where do dreams come from?" the little girl asks as her mother tucks her into bed.

"you know the story already, dear. haven't i told it to you many times before?"

"tell it again," she chirps, eyes sparkling with renewed curiosity. her mother sighs but agrees nonetheless.

there is a little town by the sea where everything is beautiful.
the sky is cotton candy pink and periwinkle blue and there are houses in every color imaginable - lime greens, bright roses, fiery oranges, crisp blues, and rich golds dot the seascape a beautiful rainbow. 
and in this town lives no one but storytellers. 
thousands of them, and they spend all day weaving beautiful stories. 
fairy tales with unicorns and dragons and love stories of beautiful princesses and handsome knights. 
and when all the stories are written, they tuck them carefully into magic paper lanterns.
as the sun sets, the townspeople release millions of these paper lanterns, and they fill the sky, an amazing multicolored fleet. 
and every night these lanterns float all over the world, giving beautiful dreams to beautiful girls... 

when her mother looks down, the girl is already fast asleep, lost in a paper lantern dream.

the butterfly's ball and the grasshopper's feast.

by william roscoe.

one of my favorite poems -

"Come take up your Hats, and away let us haste
To the Butterfly's Ball, and the Grasshopper's Feast.
The Trumpeter, Gad-fly, has summon'd the Crew,
And the Revels are now only waiting for you.
So said little Robert, and pacing along,
His merry Companions came forth in a Throng.
And on the smooth Grass, by the side of a Wood,
Beneath a broad Oak that for Ages had stood,
Saw the Children of Earth, and the Tenants of Air,
For an Evening's Amusement together repair.
And there came the Beetle, so blind and so black,
Who carried the Emmet, his Friend, on his Back.

And there was the Gnat and the Dragon-fly too,
With all their Relations, Green, Orange, and Blue.
And there came the Moth, with his Plumage of Down,
And the Hornet in Jacket of Yellow and Brown;

Who with him the Wasp, his Companion, did bring,
But they promis'd, that Evening, to lay by their Sting.
And the sly little Dormouse crept out of his Hole,
And brought to the Feast his blind Brother, the Mole.

And the Snail, with his Horns peeping out of his Shell,
Came from a great Distance, the Length of an Ell.
A Mushroom their Table, and on it was laid
A Water-dock Leaf, which a Table-cloth made.

The Viands were various, to each of their Taste,
And the Bee brought her Honey to crown the Repast.
Then close on his Haunches, so solemn and wise,
The Frog from a Corner, look'd up to the Skies.

And the Squirrel well pleas'd such Diversions to see,
Mounted high over Head, and look'd down from a Tree.
Then out came the Spider, with Finger so fine,
To shew his Dexterity on the tight Line.

From one Branch to another, his Cobwebs he slung,
Then quick as an Arrow he darted along,
But just in the Middle, -- Oh! shocking to tell,
From his Rope, in an Instant, poor Harlequin fell.

Yet he touch'd not the Ground, but with Talons outspread,
Hung suspended in Air, at the End of a Thread,
Then the Grasshopper came with a Jerk and a Spring,
Very long was his Leg, though but short was his Wing;

He took but three Leaps, and was soon out of Sight,
Then chirp'd his own Praises the rest of the Night.
With Step so majestic the Snail did advance,
And promis'd the Gazers a Minuet to dance.

But they all laugh'd so loud that he pull'd in his Head,
And went in his own little Chamber to Bed.
Then, as Evening gave Way to the Shadows of Night,
Their Watchman, the Glow-worm, came out with a Light.

Then Home let us hasten, while yet we can see,
For no Watchman is waiting for you and for me.
So said little Robert, and pacing along,
His merry Companions returned in a Throng."

Friday, January 20, 2012

a lighthouse.

 took this picture this summer at point reyes, ca. i want to go back - it is so beautiful there.

“We dance for laughter, we dance for tears,

we dance for madness, we dance for fears, 

we dance for hopes, we dance for screams, 

we are the dancers, we create the dreams.”







Thursday, January 19, 2012

it's beautiful tonight.

 image credit here

"it's beautiful tonight," he says, mostly just to fill the silence. 

"mmhm," she replies, pretending to sip her coffee that has started to cool. she knows she will not drink it but he likes to think they have something in common and she cannot bring herself to disappoint him.  

they walk for a while, waiting for the other to say something. neither of them do. she looks around as they pass the street shops that are closing for the night, looking as she does every day for a change to the window displays, a new sign or something to bring up in the conversation. she is disappointed, as she often is, to find the street looking much the same as it did the previous night.   

they pass his favorite restaurant, and he points at the strands of lights strung above the tables outside, retelling a story about his first kiss that she has heard many times before. she chooses not to remind him.

they approach her house, and he asks, as he always does, if she would like to come over for a drink.

as always, she politely declines him.

"another time then?" he says, more out of routine than actual suggestion.

"another time," she echoes back.

inside her apartment, she watches from the window as he walks another block, getting smaller with each step, until he turns to enter his own identical apartment. she wonders for a moment if she should've said "yes" today.

she shrugs and decides that there is always tomorrow. 

she throws her untouched cup of coffee in the trash, knowing she will not say "yes" tomorrow either.

things of the moment.

- it is finally raining where i live. not quite as much as i would've liked, but it makes me happy nonetheless. i went for a short walk today which was quite nice.

- the night circus by erin morgenstern - i bought this book several days ago; i'm about halfway through it right now, and loving it. the imagery is beyond beautiful and i have a soft spot for circuses.

- candles - seem to be burning almost all the time in my room. mostly frosted cupcake from slatkin & co.

- crackle nail polish is starting to grow on me... i was given some as a gift and i'm catching myself looking at my nails throughout the day.

- the resistance album by muse. 

- this video -

Friday, January 13, 2012

we are all falling apart.

me. you. the dirt and the concrete we stand on. the things we hear and touch and smell. everything we have ever seen and ever will see. [we are all falling apart.]

photography by me.

Thursday, January 12, 2012

alone - a poem [sort of].

i cherish this solitude.
when i’m nestled away, far from the world,
far from everyone’s prying eyes,
their judgmental assumptions. 
[how can you complain when you know you're just as quick to judge?]

alone i am different, somehow more of myself,  
where i don’t have to conform to society’s ideas.
here i don’t have to analyze every move i make,
don’t have to pretend that i’m someone i’m not. 
[how can you be anyone other than yourself?]

here, i’m not lost in a sea of faces,
or stuck living in someone’s shadow.
i can do anything,
be anyone. 
[claiming to be different when no one is watching just makes you a hypocrite]

here, enveloped in complete and utter silence,
i am at peace with myself.
here, where there’s no one to tell me i’m not good enough, 
not pretty enough, 
not perfect enough.
here, i am free. 
[you can never be free]

midnight [is when the magic begins].

"night, the beloved.  night, when words fade and things come alive.  when the destructive analysis of day is done, and all that is truly important becomes whole and sound again.  when man reassembles his fragmentary self and grows with the calm of a tree."  - antoine de saint-exupĂ©ry

mostly nothing.

i'm tired of living under the quick-to-judge eyes of society, where it's somehow "wrong" to be different. i'm tired of not being able to live up to the expectations that others set for me and that i set for myself. i'm tired of people telling me what to wear and what to say and where to go and what to do. i'm tired of turning a blind eye to real problems because i'm too concerned with my own so called "issues." i'm tired of bottling up my feelings out of paranoia or obligation. but most of all, i'm tired of not even having enough courage to do anything about it.

link here - a particularly intriguing picture i found on an attempt to put off the absurd amount of work i should be doing.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

winter 2012 lookbook - polyvore

a quick polyvore that i just did. (i've recently become a fan of red peacoats) here is a link to the actual look.

Monday, January 09, 2012



i wish it would rain more. definitely my favorite kind of weather, and i'm sad that it's only rained two or three times this fall / winter. i like the sound and i like the smell and i like being cold and wet and being outside when no one else is around. i love to run around in the rain and taste the rain and i love puddles and laying on the wet sidewalk. i think everything looks a little bit prettier in the rain.

in other words, this tumblr (from which i got the above photo) that i recently discovered is amazing. in particular their cinemagraphs, but there's just so many beautiful pieces that i want to spend the rest of the evening looking through them.

Saturday, January 07, 2012

i paint with light.

messing with long exposures and light - photography by me. 

capturing summer.

a project i did last year for digital photography - one of my favorites. [note: quote isn't mine - i found it in a rather unlikely place, a rainbow sherbet shower gel bottle from philosophy] *sigh* i'm longing for the beach now...

Thursday, January 05, 2012

broken things.

this is such an interesting video - the strange music complements the visuals perfectly.

an old, derelict chair i found at the lighthouse in point reyes, ca. 

Wednesday, January 04, 2012


wist·ful [wist-fuhl]
1. characterized by melancholy; longing; yearning.
2. pensive, especially in a melancholy way.


Tuesday, January 03, 2012

do not forget how to dream.

all images from link

thoughts on converse.

mine are old and worn, with memories woven into every imperfection, more than any other shoe could carry. where others see dirty and dingy, i see lived in and comfortable. they sag nonchalantly; black canvas wrinkled from wear and discolored laces dangling haphazardly. in the brown, rubberized sole, i see grains of sand wedged between the ridges and bits of dried mud clinging in the crevices. i slowly trace my fingers over the pattern cut into the once-white rubber that runs around the base, now partially rubbed away, streaked with grass stains, and tinted brown from dirt. the black textile has faded in several spots, trimmed in contrasting white stitching. my final gaze falls on the grayed laces woven through a neat row of silver eyelets. when i slip them on, i sigh in satisfaction at the feeling of my feet nestled in fabric warped to the exact shape of my foot. there are countless pairs out there, but none exactly like mine.

photography be me. 

Sunday, January 01, 2012

stale pages and fading ink.

"to read is to fly: it is to soar to a point of vantage which gives a view over wide terrains of history, human variety, ideas, shared experience and the fruits of many inquiries."              - a. c. grayling

"all the best stories in the world are but one story in reality - the story of escape. it is the only thing which interests us all and at all times, how to escape."
              - arthur christopher benson

"a book is the only place in which you can examine a fragile thought without breaking it, or explore an explosive idea without fear it will go off in your face. it is one of the few havens remaining where a man's mind can get both provocation and privacy."
                            - edward p. morgan 

photography by me.