Happy Birthday LIZ! ....

and google (and Rachie)

You've always been much cooler than me which is inspiring ya know? You're so clean and have many bold flavors of laughter that keep hearts afloat. Ya know? Assuming I could undo the years of friendship that have passed, I'd pick you in a heartbeat to live in a room next to mine with a connecting wall, I'd also pick you as a dance partner if there was prize money and glory involved in our winning. In other words, you're a sure thing and that kind of stability is comforting. 

Mostly Lizbot, I love you with ma' heart and ma' soul. God bless that platinum hair and the bounty it brings. 

*Also, I love you Rach! HB. The well-crafted sister that makes motherhood so stylish. 

 

designers: Jason Booher, Isaac Tobin, Christopher Brand, "Pinch," Joe McLaren, Billie Jean, Justine Stoddart

via: http://bookcoverarchive.com

the sudden rain reignited a flame for assam tea

lungs

and this....

via www.20x200.com

i like

via www.20x200.com

word list

arcane, brevity, infallibility, smarm, caprice, subversive, flummery, maudlin, kibitzer, insular, impasse, derisory, quixotic, filch, meretricious, imbibing, socioerotic, glib, solipsism, manqué, sibilant, inveterate, astral, nominal, rube, protean, shibboleth, morose 

drought

its no secret that I tend fall into the right brained, feeling category, as opposed to the logic that drives leftys. Having said that, I must say that I have probably never been in a greater rut creatively. That is what I'm supposed to do, yes? Since the mercury retrograde is finally over, I really need to focus on getting it back, whatever "it" is.... 

(also, catch this episode of radio west on KUER. Someone actually mentions the "The Creative Habit")

This what I came up with:

battle stress, and maintain general emotional health--exercise, yoga, meditation are all a given. I've long since discovered movement to hold a key to creative expression. Patchouli, lavender, grapefruit, jasmine, all good for stress. Also, frankincense and lavender are good for panic attacks. 

I've been trying to squeeze in this book, during "breaks". Who else would know better right? Twyla Tharp suggests developing a ritual, something that essentially signals to your body, "ok, I'm ready to work." I haven't gotten far in this book, (although it's a super easy and delightful enough read) but I'm listening Twyla ok? you have my attention. 

structure. Another important idea for Tharp. I am 25 years old, it's time to be ok with this idea. I've been poisoned to think that structure is somehow equal to an inclosed cell, a yawn. I'll start small....

write everyday. I always hear this from any voice that has every given advice. Of course, a given. This is hard form me, it stems from a fear of commitment perhaps? How else are you supposed to generate fuel from the gods without giving them something to dote on?

baths. I do take baths regularly. I'll keep doing this. I've somehow managed to give my baths permission to relax me. 

dodge self-criticism. This very well may be the key. I don't know what it is, but I think I've opened my soul up a little too much perhaps? Everything idea that I get is then put on trial, with no energy to dispute my own solid verdict. It all must go.

a new goal: don't shy away from minimalism. Thanks to a conversation with emmy earlier this evening, I got thinking about this approach. I'm fancy. But sometimes it is just too much adornment for such simple words. I also have a problem with action, I prefer a character to sit down and sort out idea after idea in their head. alone. Needless to say, I'm not a very good fiction writer. 

to be continued...... 

two creeps

So, last night when coming home from a long shift, between the hours of one and two a.m., I pulled into the driveway, something I do everyday. Sure. But as I'm driving to my spot near the back of the house I see a figure walking up the driveway....hmm....strange. When my lights hit him, illuminating some shiny shorts that were a mistake, he turns to walk back down my driveway. As we pass each other I try to recall if I'd ever seen this creature before. Check..... nope. He didn't look too incredibly threatening so I got out and walked back around the front of the house, I'm not fond of prowlers and I have at least 4 little darlings asleep inside. As I turn the corn, this little bro dude says to me (but in memory, he jumps from behind the shadows) "hey....." I cut into his sentence before it has had the chance to form with a loud shriek and proceed to spout off as many cuss words that are in my immediate palette. I've been banned from seeing horror movies or action/adventure that have any sudden movements by a number of friends--my response is always too much for people. So after the initial fright he proceeds to tell me that he was just looking to see if someone lives here. Ok....someone in particular? Rather than answer him, I continue my train of profanity and let him know that "you can't be creeping!"I slammed the door before I noticed if he had anything else to say. Unmannerly? I didn't much care. To his credit, he wasn't very threatening looking, and I have a feeling he was an escaped BYU student trying to sneak into another naughty BYU student's bedroom window so their consequences might be their consciences' alone.

I need everyone I know to be a little bit safer in their daily endeavors. Say yes.

Already having issues with insomnia, I was up for many hours of the night. I have this habit of flipping through blogs and sites that I scroll, clicking on pictures that I love, confuse me, make me think, am astounded by, or make me laugh and saving them to my desktop because apple makes it so easy. And when I've forgotten why they are there, I trash them. I know this is pointless but it has become second nature and I'm a very sick girl. It's always very interesting to see what I've saved in some state of delirium the next day when I see my desktop pocked with little boxes of curious color and wonder what I might have been thinking. For me this is cheap amusement when you've spent way too much time alone trying to guess what exactly Foucault and Barthes mean, and hours deconstructing a poem about boughs and monks. Anyhow, this was my harvest from the early hours of the morning (I can't say I recall where they were all stolen from. sorry):

Later that night I had a dream about two large cats that were unpredictable but adorable. Panther and a tiger.

I want this hair......oh wait I have this hair. Whoop. Thank you Jesus.

this reminded me of cami

duh. a total book trip

Keat's "Ode to a Nightingale." I mean no disrespect, but these guys make immortality look blessed.

WOW

my fascination with monochrome?

??????

here it starts to get weird

this, I get.....

.....nothing to say. I'm embarrassed. 

Bear with me folks. The semester has only just begun and it seems as though things just start spiraling more and more out of my control as the months go on. 

via www.maryellenbartley.com/

ROUND 14 or so...

OFF