My dream kitchen

I don't like to brag, but that's one sexy kitchen I designed.

Cheers to creative juices, love, and the people that promote it!

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you're SO awesome!

if i've ever felt so awesome, it's when my two girlfriends yelled it to me.  at this point i was upside down,similar to a handstand, but my hands were not on the floor. Through Ayns direction,  we managed to get me poised straight up, by shoulders only. I was floating, if only for a moment.and almost naturally my body bent backwards, the plants of her feet at my lower back. and again i floated.
....i have signed myself up for circus acrobats next weekend with ayn.. HAPPY 32nd BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!

lets live forever please.

although i am not suicidal by any means, i think of dieing quite a bit. I've never written about this, because its only recently that I've realized my strange infatuation with it. There are several ways i think about it.
1. Daily Undergarment Dilemna: "If i get in a car wreck, the doctors will see my bra/panties aren't a matching set" This idiotic thought came from my mother as a way to insinuate that you should always be presentable , down to your undergarments. As I get older the thought has evolved to "why would i care, id be dead". So more often than not, my undergarments dont match now.

2. Evidence/Secrets come to Light. At a moment when todd and I decided to stop doing "so many" drugs many years ago, the question was "If we died, my parents would find a crack pipe in our belongings, and would be heart broken" We dont own one anymore, but have strange powdered substances in the freezer still.

3. Unfinished Business. I'd like to beleive everyone thinks about this one. "Business" can be defined anywhere from "spending time with the ones i love/family, etc" to " i wish i'd traveled more", "made more of my life" etc. this one i only think about in guilt. because i dont think it. Rather i feel a guilt for not thinkign it.. that in turn makes me wonder if i deserve to die more than someone else wo fears. Id argue with myself , that, the very reason i thin of it is beacuse i fear it. im not sure about this arguemtn yet.

4. It happens all the time: This comes when i watch the news or a televsion show and death happens. I think "somone is dieign right now, and the day i do die a girl across the earth will be writing in a blog, wtching a tv sow and searching for new music to post". it happens to everyone and will happen to me.

and as i write this, I silently think
5. i wonder if the universe think im calling its bluff? like im asking for it. Im realyl not. id hate to die right now. But if i do tomorrow, theres your lesson, to not look at death in such a curious way, stay away from even the idea of it. do not accept "its a part of life".

... and then i remember, its not death for ones self that we fear... but the death of the ones around us, the ones we love.

dear friend of recognition

you know me too well
a slight movement tells you my story
shares with you my dreams
sings to you my every fear

you walk with knowledge of who i am
of what i want
of what i need

and when my sun feels the clouds
you hide behind the trees with me
joining me in my puddled water
breathing in my thickened air

you could walk in my shoes
and your step would be as mine.

i need to ...

start

NOW.

the wait is over.

and NOW is here.

good times.

the notion that emotions are contagious has never been so apparant to me. A small duration of the summer held a slumber for me. As it did for everyone around me. Im not sure who it started with, but it spread. And now with good cheer, we are all, as a group, in a good place again.

 

so raise your glass to the people around you that bring you to a higher place. You owe them at least that much.

 

note to self: smile + remember the yogurt.

 

FINALLY!!!

THE CHICKEN CO-OP WEBSITE!!!!
I will keep you all posted to our CBS two-seconds of fame!

not stealing...

... just borrowing an idea so i can build our living room pendant lamp.

http://www.voosfurniture.com/#/lighting/binder-light 

To the unforgotten

I felt a familiar connection to him, like a brother. Sure, I once had a crush on him, but that passed with endearment. He was so beautiful. Wickedly charming, and naturally warm.
"Thanks for coming" he'd tell me when I'd make the drive out to huntsville.
I knew the value of his thanks. That alone, made the sadness I felt leaving him there bearable.
I suppose there is a certain romanticising who he was. He didn't make it passed the age where his actions were unacceptable and lame. Young and rebellious and lost. He died that way.
I've always liked to think that he meant to die, in a drug induced euphoric state perhaps. That at that moment, he was at peace with himself.

Happy birthday Mario.
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night terror

One of those things that I always seem to underestimate. Its illogical that I do, since I don't take my vivid and very lucid dreams for granted.

This time the man in black came at me. Gun in pocket and head down. Pushing me against the roll down store gate and pulls the trigger. It happens rather quickly and The fear is as real as the joy or passion I feel in better dreams. . I wake up in a cold sweat and the feeling that someone just used my stomach as a punching bag. And my naseau rises with the short breath and spins.

Toss

Run

Puke



Fucking dreams, sometimes they're just cruel.

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sappy susy

bah.. the idea of going home has got me all upside down in emotions. i love nyc. but i love my family. my familia alanis. the pride i feel knowing i belong to such a loving family. such a happy family. my parents did something beautiful in raising us. all different, but all loving, all holding this unconditional love for the ones let into our lives.
im not bragging, but counting my blessings as i realize that i am dearly loved by so many and that i can love them all in return.

count to three

the point of decision can be a scary place.
not making one soon enough is scarier.

im petrified at the moment.

Yo! Short stuff!

Its something I've always enjoyed. Being small. My legs stil dangle off chairs, as they did off the blue plastic chairs in gradeschool. And the smell of my hair is more often smelled than my neck, that's the reason I sprtiz the top of my scalp with my favorite fragrances. My mom taught me that. then there's the knowledge that noone will take my harsh words seirously, but take my smiles ten fold.



Cheers to being small and being me.

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Limbo

at the will of the seeker

its weighed by simple questions

standing in dark shadows

patiently it awaits my calm

 

pounce, scratch, bite

it begs for my confession

at tooth and nail

i crawl away

 

... knowing it will come again.

 

 

 

Voila! the boom box.

Finally had the time to minimally color edit the emages of the stereo credenza. i think its hot!!!

 

AND... it allows our office to jam out!

buck up

he asked me if i had a good cry over it
i dont cry about these things i responded
i repeated these words to myself as i wept
the beige pillow stained with eye make-up

i told myself again, like id told myself before
buck up and move the fuck on.

sometimes, i talk a big talk
but i forget how small i really am

love note

there's a love note that begs to be written, spoken and confessed. it lingers at the tip of my tongue and it dances at the weight of my feet. It comes and goes from hiding, but ceases to not exist. its a pesky thing, taunting me with its trips to nowhere land, that place of denial.

hmmm...

in looking and trying to hang old artwork (to inspire/remind myself that i may be slightly talented) i found one that had this scribbled behind it.

"Poor little people they run in shame
They play about the candle flame
and to my sweet satisfaction
they continue with their paltry action"

Now I'm not sure what this meant. I have an idea, because, well, its pretty shallow, but i was sixteen when i wrote it. I dont remember writing it. or thinking it up. i dont remember beig this person or even remembering using hte word paltry (must have synonymed it, when i thought simple words couldnt be as eloquent).

Above all, and simply, I like that I wrote it and that I still have it.
cheers to saving a few things here and there.

a bit manic these days

the feeling of being unproductive. my new apartment not quite feeling like home, my paintings being washed away after 2 days of exploration, unhung mirrors, unframed art, and a dart board that cant seem to stay on the wall. And lets not forget the sour moods that my dear todd (that he does not deserve) has endured as of recent, and then there's the couple of pounds that have crept on me, and finally, having moments of inadequacies at work. Everyone has their insecurities, so I don't dwell on mine. They are no more or less than any other persons, but I have them and mine are all i know.
I can "play" happy really well, because in the end, i wouldn't give my life up for anyone elses. i love my life and the people in it, but its hard work being happy all the time. todd asks "where is my happy susy, you haven't told me a susy story today". he says this when he sees a slight blank look on my face. he knows my eyes will brighten at telling a random, irrelevant story.

Camping

Image taken as I waited for my fellow campers to return from a trip for ice... :) I do love the hiking, the wood gathering, the well-earned exhausted napping.....with todd the most.

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fuck shit stack! hoot!

thursday!
after sadly (completely forgot) missing gil scott heron on sunday.

then, camping!!! need a breath of fresh air.. and cool lakes.
happy 4th of july weekend.

so sleepy

these waves, these surges, they lurk at my backside,
brushing my hair aside to push me
to lunge at me, its invisible shoulders
how brute it can be, my pulse slows
...
tbc

Her name, my gift

The night seems to gather us slowly

this dancers body, it tip toes at my collar bone

And the hammock that squeeks at constant tone awakens us

Laying its breathe of wisdom

"a reflection of you" she says

the stillest airs reframe her girlish meows

Sweet smiles and touchings while the blurs of dreams devour us.

Her name is anneka and this day I know I love her.

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:)

I like the accidental show of my orange bag, perfectly placed on the director's chair. hehehe

I do enjoy my job.

 

happy summer rant

The first day of summer starts with an awesome last day of spring. This summer, like all other summers is about love, sweat, and skin. Join me and all the other happy people, because its so much nicer on our side of the tracks.

too-many-single-girlfriends Syndrome

The lack of being surrounded by so much family, has forced me, it seems, to make more friends. And in hte recent months I have felt like I belong in a season of Sex And The City. The girlfriend brunching, the girlfriend drama, the girl-girl flirting, and all the girly things that go along with a group of girls.
A few things I've learned:
1. Being the only married one, my standards for being married are changing more to a dating scenerio. Quite peculiar phase he and I are embarking on.
2. Drama doesnt touch me and I seem to be the glue.
3. Breasts are fondled amongst girls.. alot.

I like that ive never experienced this before.. the whole girl group thing. Not for any other reason than the fact that its new to me.

spiritually transcendic

she could feel the betrayal of her memories. they were fading, being cruel to her as they floated away on their light ghostly feet. the tap of her own foot at the cafe's barstool, euphonic to the beat of Ray Charles soulful voice in the background.

She sat for a moment, eyes calmly closed as the light found its ways through her lids, forming that alternate moment. She'd go into a dream state and his smell would surround her.

 

note: im not sure why my writing is taking on this narrative "scheme". im not sure i like it. all seeming unresolved in their agenda. the word filament is still very obvious.. as they seem to be snippets of a longer story. before, it was comforting that my writings were snippets of my life, feelings, and fantasies.. but these seem to be more about the moments of a character that i want to meet.

Girl on a train

She wasn't much of a reader but she'd read the books he gave her... As if trying to find a clue to his psyche. Or to simply feel closer to him. To touch the pages he'd once touched before.
She'd read the words with a warm feeling at her stomach and memories of their shared meals would surface, lingering the train car's air.
At the last page, she'd close it knowing it was over, again. And through the bustle she'd leave the book under the lonely newspaper next to her.
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endearing privacies in the nude

yea.. that time.. you remember?
we'd just made love for the first time
silently kissing as i lay over you, one leg hung over the edge of your twin sized bed. Nine Inch Nails was playing and my new love for the song Reptile emerged.

"you wanted to slow dance, that was cute"

yea.. I think i wanted to be closer to you even still. and I think i felt awkward. It was new to me. I felt like a child.

"i fell in love with your feet that day"

yea...i always hated my feet until you loved them. Thought they were fat.

"my ordinary girl, you were always so ordinary"

yea, and you were always such an asshole.

how YOU doin'?

the wind kicked my ass on the bridge today, but as I walked into the office, sweaty and huffing, my boss greeted me with this tune, a huge smile, and the new office Ipad.

*knock on wood* as i count my blessings.