Power of Sharpies

Here is something you don't see everyday...forget the design shows with a budget of $500.... Try $10 and a Sharpie
See Room Here

Virginia "Pepper" Potts

Those are the Finest Stilettos I have seen in a long time. The whole time Mizz Pepper was wearing them through the movie Iron Man I couldn't stop staring at her feet.

She makes Stilettos look SEXY.

And let me tell you, for ME that is quite the feat.

In fact, it was kinda inspiring. Something about the way those shoes wrap up behind her ankle and around the top made me want a pair of mine own. Made me WANT to wear heels.

???
I know right?

Well considering all the sadness in the world- I'm not going to lie- it seems a bit shallow to write about how I drooled over a pair of shoes. Finding a pair of heels that make me "feel" like Pepper Potts won't get me any closer to a super hero.
I realize I need to be wearing the shoes AND be in distress for a hero to appear.
Just wanted you to know I have a grip on reality here.

But seriously...

"If most of us are ashamed of shabby clothes and shoddy furniture, let us be more ashamed of shabby ideas and shoddy philosophies.... It would be a sad situation if the wrapper were better than the meat wrapped inside it." ~Albert Einstein

"As long as there are cold and nakedness in the land around you, so long can there be no question at all but that splendor of dress is a crime." ~John Ruskin

Despite the quotes...I think all of us sometimes can feel a little boost of confidence when we feel we look good.
I'd like to think that for SOME of us- it's because we already see God's beauty that is inside of us and it makes us happy to see a little of that reflected on our body.
You wouldn't believe how giddy it makes me to wear my red shoes or how relaxed I feel in my gray sweater (which is NOT sexy I promise you). I guess it's nice to wear cloths that seem to fit our mood because it makes us feel in sync?
Is that Necessary?
No, not at all. But it's nice.
And sometimes when we lose sight of the beauty that is inside- I think that throwing on a pair of stilettos may help us remember that.

CAN YOU BELIEVE I JUST MADE STILETTOS MEANINGFUL????
I am bewitched.

but still...I might just wear heels one of these days just for the fun of it. Just last week I actually dressed all nice to go get some groceries.
Try not to fall over from shock.

Becoming Monsters

I started re-reading Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller today. And there was a short portion where he spoke about something very…fundamental.

“I am the problem.”

I'm not what you would call a picketer or a social activists that you know....provides roadkill for tractors tearing down historical buildings. BUT like the best of them I can spew out altruistic and political comments that make me sound like I have convictions and I know where the problem lies. But really….do any of us?

Do we look in the mirror and explore

our habits,

our public speaking skill,

our ideas,

and our time management as scrupulously as we explore those in the spotlight?

Granted…most of us aren’t running for president or anything. But does that negate responsibility? If we spend more time judging the actions and movements of others than we do taking stock of our own motives and actions are we really politically or socially concerned or are we just selfish and ignorant?

“I think every conscious person, every person who is awake to the functioning principles within his reality, has a moment where he stops blaming the problems in the world on group thing, on humanity and authority, and starts to face himself. I hate this more than anything... The problem is not out there; the problem is the need beast of a thing that lives in my chest”

Not to say that every problem that exists is our fault. That’s pretty ridiculous. But I’m just saying…we sure do spend a lot of time pointing fingers. We need not live in a mirrored house to see how many problems are caused but us as individuals that make up the collective.

We may scoff at the altruist motto “be the change” but well…maybe we don’t think about it often enough. That is after all the only control we have. I cannot control what others do, but I can control me (usually, unless I’m extra ornery).

I can control what I give that others come into contact with. And if I start paying attention to what I put out there….well maybe that’s the only way I can really affect what others do and propel change.

I think if we watch others do stupid things and point our fingers instead taking a cue

-we’ll find we’ve all become the monster we scoff at:

“He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you” Friedrich Nietzsche

Awakenings

If you’ve never see the movie Awakenings it’s a beautiful story based on true events about a doctor who comes across a group of basically catatonic patients who respond to a drug that “wakes” them up for a period of time. I wrote the following excerpt after I watched the movie some time ago when I was going through a bit of a rough patch (not like that’s new!). It gave me just the perspective I needed to latch on to some color and dance around in it:

"I cried through much of the end. It was just what I needed I think to pull me out of my self-centered misery. Not that grieving is bad in my case...
But for someone who believes so much in the beauty of pain- I often forget to live what I write and speak about.

This story reminded me that it is possible to take my pain, and instead of hiding inside myself, I can use it as a way to touch beauty, life, and people.
I have that option.

How can I speak courage to those of a worse fate
when I cannot employ courage at the inklings of pain?

Sometimes it's good to just tell myself to snap out of it.

Stop replaying picture and words and longings. Sometimes I get lost ...and I sit down and weep like a lost little girl. Sometimes I forget to keep moving.
Grieving is not wrong or bad but at some point the tears are no longer an expression of grief but an expression of surrender to things as they are. A hopeless surrender. That is not the way of God, of his love, of his beauty. Pain can be like the silver lining in a blue sky filled with clouds. It highlights the wonder. It sharpens the picture.

The moment a red balloon, a rainstorm, or a star ceases to leave me in a childlike, speechless wonder...
someone please slap me out of it. I am not catatonic. I have a chance.
I don't want to miss it.

The brain takes charge

Gray, boring, dull, yawing, blasé, undeveloped, unintentional, melancholy, haphazard, flippant,

casual, overcast, inactive

Inspiring isn’t?

I have spent the last few months floating along in a sort of limbo (not exactly the edge of hell type though) with the only intentional actions being:

- I make sure I have clean clothes for work

- I clean once a week

- I check out more books that I could possibly read from the library

Somewhere I lost some of my fervor for life and the magic of the little things has slowly been hazed over. I think about writing, I think about art, I think about sitting with a cup of tea and staring out the window or sending a card to my friend

…but so much of that is just like a bird that jumps out of the field and flutters in front of you and then vanishes.

Certainly I am not depressed. I am active, social, do plenty of stuff, I'm happy (though not content). It’s kinda like I’m on selective Jenny auto pilot. My brain knows I like incense so it has me light it at night. But it keeps me from writing under the influence of the smell. It knows I like chocolate pudding when I am pmsing so it has me go buy it- but I don’t pay attention to its chocolate-ness like I normally would.

Perhaps I put myself through too steep a gauntlet earlier this year in trying to figure out the answer to questions that I don’t know yet. I do that. Sometimes I say to myself when I am crying about something

“tsk- you are too intense. Stop the drama”

“But I like the intensity- it’s colorful”

“well sometimes it’s too much color”

“Impossible !” I say to myself. And I go on crying and reading and asking questions.

“This is ridiculous. GET OVER IT” because some part of me realizes that a good slap in the face is more effective than writing writing writing about something over and over again sometimes. Sometimes you just need to take a break from intensity to ENJOY the color it produces. Sometimes you just need a red balloon and a peaceful mind.

So maybe my few months of induced melancholy and a numbed mind was like my brain saying

“hello? Shut up- what you’re doing is impossible. Quite trying to be like a 70 year old sage with a 27 year old brain! It’s like trying to figure out how to do quantum physics when you can barely remember how to do long division.”

And then my brain slapped me.

And I was like

“ok”

Only I didn’t know my brain was having a conversation with me and I didn’t really know I agreed with it like a little kid nodding his head in agreement because all he wanted was to get to the end of the lecture and get a red balloon.

Only I think technically- I didn’t get a red balloon cause the last few months have been a little colorless. I think my brain thought that was necessary for my mind and I should do without.

What does it know? It’s only 27?

So there you have it. Last night I went to a coffee shop and sat and read for a bit and people watched and all of a sudden my fervor returned and I thought “HEY! Where's my RED BALLOON?!”

and my mind was like "you agreed to give it up moron- your brain told you how tired it was"

and i was like "I WANT MY RED BALLOON BACK!!!" and right there in the coffee shop I slammed my book down and yelled and started pounding the table till someone brought me a red balloon and licorice tea and played some really good jazz music.

and I remembered how much I love people, and God, and reading, and learning. REALLY LOVE it.

And my brain just sighed….and was like “whatever. At least I got you to sit down for a bit.”

That’s when I concocted the whole story above -with my renewed creativity.

My little Parsian

Well there she is folks!
My brand new old bike.
She's just perfect. I knew we were meant to be together the moment I set eyes on her black and red rusty features. I couldn’t stop thinking about her Parisian persona, her slender and delicate wheels, her distinctive shifting arrangement, her gentle and steady “click click click” as I ride her in certain gears.

I admit, she has far more experience than I do. She probably is aware of all kinds of methods I am unaware of, accessories that will make riding easier, proper safety measures I am to young and impulsive to heed. The places we will go! The things we will see! The gas we will save!

Take me away my little Parisian two-wheeled gas-saving machine! TAKE ME AWAY!

Regret

If life were a dream, if life had physical representations of what resides in your thoughts and souls- here is a piece.
Something painful has happened.
This mysterious, almost menacing fog has descended on your path.
People handle that grey matter differently depending on who they are. I plunge myself directly into it and sit down. I close my eyes and feel the full course of pain till it has swept through me.

I know the pain.
Then I begin to walk through it. I probe it.

I find whatever beauty I can in it. Like a crocus pushing its way through the snow, or a bite of chocolate pudding during PMS.

I believe all pain carries opportunity for beauty in my life.

“Life is pain highness” said Wesley to Buttercup before he revealed himself.
If life is pain, and life if beautiful, then pain too, is beautiful.

I spend however long it takes to find the beauty, then, I step out of it –and release it.
Essentially, I see the dark for what it is- so when I step outside of it, it dissipates, I know what I am leaving behind, and I let go.

But what happens if you get lost inside?

I tell people that I live my life with no regrets because regrets don't do any good. To be honest, there are two things I regret in this life. I am lost in them. I find I am transporting myself halfway back into my regret and wishing it away. Taking back something that is already done.

It is haunting me.
I have closed my eyes and sat down. It isn’t there *says a stubborn 5 year old or a 5 year old adult*

I realized this yesterday when I went to work. Usually, if I have any unfounded sullen feelings they dissipate once I kick my brain into some other gear. When it’s real- any other gear aside from mind-numbing denial seems to um…push me over the edge a bit (this is what we call a wall/locker kicking moment- the second in my life’s history).

So I’ve realized, my “post-quarter-life crisis” -that I sarcastically and flippantly make fun of myself for- is induced by these two regrets I can’t let go of. I don’t know how other people can let go of things without really knowing what it is. Or how people can hold onto things and still live a relatively normal life with sparks of happiness.

...I apparently do not have that gift.

All or nothing baby. I’m like the pendulum that defies physical science and just never loses momentum from one side to the other.

The good thing about that is… I see beauty in everything.
The bad thing is…when I can’t see the beauty I’m like a puppy looking for their stick with their eyes closed. Stupid.

The ironic things about this all is…. I see the beauty in my collective post quarter life crisis, just not in the individual components. Unfortunately, it's the individual components that keep me here.

So I'm stuck until I find the beauty in these two regrets. ....maybe the question isn't- when will i see the beauty? Maybe the question is, when will I be ready to see the beauty and finally let go.

Note to Self

My friends (Mar and Decks) and I used to play a game called Preach It. We would search our brain holds to come up with some sort of image or event and create a maxim to represent it. We would then present it to the group and leave it up to them to extract meaning, or present a meaningful "sermon" from it ourselves.

Usually it went something like this (paraphrased from my disjointed memory):

Mari: "our relationships with people are like a bird of paridise beginning to Bloom"

Decks and I: "hmmmmm....huh."
Not being the leading expert on flowers like Mar was (she worked in a flower shop) we could not add to that. So Mari proceeded to explain the process of the flower beginning to bud and how gently you have to almost reach in and pull parts of it out at just the proper time etc etc etc...
Ok actually i forgot most of what she said...

But the point is...Here is MY maxim for today

"Just because things are good separate,
doesn't mean they are good together"

How did I come up with this brilliant Maxim?
I made a smoothie today (doesn't it look good up there?) and threw in:Apricots, Plums, Strawberries, Keefer, Ice, Yerba Mate, Apple Cider Vinegar, Ground Flax Seed.
I drank it....but probably just as you were reading that and thought it sounded good till your face contorted when you got to "yerba Mate" is probably about what my face looked like drinking it.

But hey, you don't have to use my Maxim for Smoothie making- you can use it for things like Gum and Peanut Butter OR Driving and reading.
The possibilities are endless.

How to make a quick thousand

Should you ever be in a bind and need some extra cash (can be up to several hundred if not over a thousand bucks), you can sell your body. If that's not good news I don't know what is!
or rather...sell your hair.

Most of us are aware that you could donate it to Locks of Love. Which is wonderful option. And normally I would advocate for the goodwill offering rather than the money option but... $1000 much needed cash could come in handy....

There are a couple sites that are a "yardsale" of hair similar to craigslist (the hair trader). you post pictures of your hair and description and...
BANG
-you market it right and you got yourself a snazzy new haircut AND some extra cash. Course, if you subject your hair to a blow dryer, a monthly color and highlighting, and endless curling and straightening- chances are, you won't get the bang for your buck. But otherwise- it's a better option I think than selling your entire body, an egg, or for some of us (faint faint) our plasma.

Here's how my add would read.

"Virgin, rich chestnut, shiny, 16" hair. Never used heat elements on it, never dyed or highlighted. Washed once to twice a week, conditioned daily. Only used all natural shampoo and conditioner, no chemicals. Treated with care to grow long and healthy. Healthy diet, healthy hair. Has natural wave to it and can be curly if scrunched when wet. Asking price $1000. Paypal only. Must receive payment before hair is cut and sent."

anyone? anyone?

Witch of Portobello

A great book by Paulo Coelho

I was recently talking with a friend about why, after time and time of God supplying what we need and working everything out...we continue to worry? It's as though our human condition relegates that we must worry. Because to not worry, is to admit lack of control.

Maybe worry and accepting stress is our pathetic way of feeling as though we retain control.

I read this passage from the Witch of Portobello and although he is talking about love, it nails exactly what we were talking about. We don't want to be saved the way God saved us. We want to be saved in a way that doesn't require us to sacrifice anything- even misery. Because if we at least keep misery, we still have a psuedo feeling of control.

"surrendering completely to love, be it human or divine, means giving up everything, including our own well being or our ability to make decisions. It means loving in the deepest sense of the word. The truth is that we don't want to be saved in the way God has chosen; we want to keep absolute control over our every step, to be fully conscious of our decisions, to be capable of choosing the object of our devotion."

Something to think about.

Here is a bonus quote:
"What is a teacher? I'll tell you: it isn't someone who teaches something, but someone who inspires the student to give of her best in order to discover what she already knows."

Bless your bike

Yes you read right.
And though we've missed it (April 26th, 2008) it's sure to come around again next year.

The annual Blessing of the Bikes

biking as we all know is great for your health and it's great for this wonderful little ball of rock and other geological materials we live on. But lets face it...your um- rather exposed out there.

Why just last month while I was polishing the glasses and silverware preparing for lunch when a hit and run with a man on a bike occurred just out our windows at what i now label the "deadly 4 corners" (you would too if a crane went out of control careening down the hill into this intersection, 2 collisions, a hit and run, and a gang shooting occurred within a month). Not only did the car hit the biker and zoom off- but the biker flew off the bike into another car...kinda like the opening scene to Meet Joe Black. Miraculously (and I do mean that) the man survived with less than a broken bone.... maybe he attended the Blessing of the Bikes?

It's held each spring at New York City's cathedral Church of St John the Divine (or CCSJD as some call it). a little blessing and sprinkle of holy water and your good to go (bring your bike but leave your cleats at the door). The ceremony has a few sacred moments- a riderless bike walked to the front to remember those who died on bikes and a scripture reading.

While at first I was inclined to scoff at this silly little ritual...I actually think it's interesting. Not that I think without the sprinkle of Holy Water your doomed...But it's a nice reminder and awareness of God's involvement in your daily interactions.

Last time I rented a car I spent a lot of time praying while driving it. First I started praying that nothing would happen cause I was racked with fear as I signed "no" to all the insurance options...But then I found myself praying for my friends...and I was more aware of God in my life and suddenly I felt so thankful for everything I had. A little awareness can go a long way. I'm pretty sure too, when I find myself riding a bike, I'll start out asking God for some safety, but next thing I'll know, I'll be more aware of God around me and not just my bike safety.
So go ahead I guess- bless those bikes or - bikers.

kisses

I am so tired.
anxious.
lonely.
Tired of this place.
Tired of this job.
waiting. waiting for what?
anything. anything.
a train to take me away from all I know.
unfamiliarity calls to me.
bored.
I am one of those people. floating.
looking in a mirror and seeing what I loathe.
wondering what good.
what change
can occur near me.
from me
by me.
i shake my head.
what is in my hands that i can give?
I am tired of not giving.
tired of not being.
tired.
tired of me.

I long so much for a home I have never been to.
A home I can only feel my heart crave for.
aching from the separation.

i shake my head.
walk away from the mirror.
useless thoughts.
wasted thoughts.
where can i get new ones?

then. now. here.

stardust falls upon me.
tiny sighs of relief,
glimpses into true reality.
kisses of home.

love, deep red love.
grace, clear translucent grace.
hope, warm tender hope.
tears. falling. renewing. reminding.

I feel humble.
warm.
amazed.
kissed by stardust.
now i see.
now nothing matters.
now the pearl of great price is in front of me.
now nothing little is worth much.
petty.

I'll take the stardust.
I'll take God's grace.
they sit.
sacred.
in my hands.
in my head.
in my soul.
i have something to give.
if only for today.

A Tip

"Prom and Joyce Meyer conference this weekend" we hear circulating around work.
For those of us who know who Joyce Meyer is we groan.
For those of us who worked prom season last year we groan.
(I groaned for both).

we are well aware of those who tip 10% or less.
and among a few others...prom and Joyce Meyer Christian people fit into that category. Don't get me wrong, I'm a Christian and I was raised among the 10%ers and I was taught to tip better than that and behave better than that (Thanks Earl and Linda). I broke the stereotype and everyone has a chance to. Most just don't. And it pisses me off.

"We are in a hurry to go to a Joyce Meyer conference" my table says. Oookkkkayyy.... I'm on it. I expedite their food, run my ass off for their every request, and give a polite laugh when they can't for the life of them figure out why there isn't salt and pepper on the table like the local diner and think it's the funniest thing since Bob Saget narrated home videos.
All the while I try to remain optimistic that they aren't like everyone else.
After they leave and I am confident they received the best possible service I open the check. $42 bill...$3.98 tip.
wow. Jesus loves you too. Instead of helping me pay rent you just contributed towards a cup of coffee or half a tank of gas. awesome.

Why is it that instead of taking comfort in the fact that my guests pray before their meal I roll my eyes and mark them off for any money. They talk about pastors, Jesus, Church politics, and helping people and I guess they are so poor they can't afford a tip. But it wouldn't bother me SO much (other people leave 10% too) if they didn't demand, pick apart, and treat you like shit before they leave you nothing. Even on the Christian radio they laugh about how they made their waitress run around for all their requests. OH that was SO FUNNY.

Now I just wait for the prom kids to come in, steal our candles, giggle while they throw bread at eachother, and leave us 10% tip with mom and dad's credit card.

Not saying I'm perfect. No one models Jesus love all the time. But something is wrong when every person who works in the food industry knows that most Christians tip poorly.

Here's a tip: don't ask me if I know the Lord and then leave 10% when your every whim was catered too. If your what Jesus looks like then no wonder so many people groan.

sorry-I know it's on the hypocritical side but had to get it out. sigh.

Carcinogen! Carcinogen!

Sorry....
I can't help but advocate for a little organic and green movement in everyone's life.
I try not to offer unsolicited advice (not very good at it yet). And I try not to be one of those people who make you feel like a cad for wearing antiperspirants.

But from time to time you will hear me spout off something or yell in your ear "carcinogen! carcinogen!" as you put on your lotion or lather your face.

It's cause I care.
The stupid FDA approves a million additives, preservatives, and chemicals in small individual doses (not combined) never taking into consideration that
1. producers would use more than ONE toxin in their product
2. consumers would have more than ONE product containing several toxins.
3. some toxins react to other toxins and are rendered unsafe by association.

Smart dudes.... real smart. Now we all have toxic cocktails in our cabinets.

That's it. I like you and I don't want you getting cancer, or having birth defects, or the kids to start having kids at 7.

The Great Marshmallow Experiment

The marshmallow experiment is a famous test conducted by Walter Mischel.

A group of 4 year old children had marshmallows placed in front of them. They were told that they would receive another marshmallow if they waited 20 minutes before they ate the first one.
fast forward to their adolescent years... research indicated that those who held out the 20 minutes scored 210 points higher on their SAT in comparison to those who had eaten the marshmallow right away. They also were more calm and competent versus sulky and irritable later in life.

This is an interesting concept to me and I often find myself thinking "don't eat the marshmallow". In fact, I once wrote a note and tacked it above my bed that read:

"Remember the Marshmallow"

I mean, of course, metaphorically.
The concept, in my opinion, is not that it is bad to eat the marshmallow right away. That, in and of itself is fine. The marshmallow is good, why not enjoy it now? So what if I don't get another one, maybe I don't need another one. Two, might make me sick.

The problem though, is when I eat the marshmallow immediately because my mouth is filled with so much saliva I can't function until that gooey mass of processed sugar is in my mouth. That is when you are controlled by the desire.

Another way of looking at it I think is to imagine a beautiful smelling rose. When you smell it you take part in it, in what it is. You enjoy what it offers. You walk away happy that you got to smell it. It's just there- a passing pleasure that was lovely.

But what happens when you are always thinking about how good it smells and your mood is worse when you can't smell it. The aroma of the rose no longer enhances your life, it dominates it. In other words you no longer take pleasure in what it is, you are only interested in what it gives you.

Your admiration and derived pleasure for something beautiful has become a selfish desire no longer bent on appreciation, but on satiation. You only want something because it momentarily satisfies a desire not because that thing is necessarily good or beautiful.

Not that splurging on say some chocolate pudding when I crave it means I am doomed. spontaneity is beautiful too and it doesn't mean domination. I guess what I'm trying to say is I think there is a balance and that's what the marshmallow test reminds me of. It reminds me to enjoy what I have but when enjoyment becomes something that controls or consumes me- I've lost the beauty.

that's all. just...if your going to eat the marshmallow- be careful of what it can do to you. It can be delicious and wonderful and you go on with your day with a little wonderful. Or it can haunt you till you taste it again, and again, and again.

I'd like to think maybe I'm the kid who held out 10 minutes for the marshmallow and decided I was cool with just one and ate it and went on my merry way. sweet.

Disclaimer: I do not recommend trying this experiment on your children with marshmallows. They are bad for you. Try it with your favorite organic fruit...like watermelon or strawberries. It'll be a serving (or two if they hold out) of fruit and an indication of your child's future SAT scores. BONUS!

31% cynic

Good News!
According to this highly scientific test I generally see the glass half full!

Cynicism

31

"According to your responses, you are generally the type of person who believes in the goodness of humankind. You give nearly everyone the benefit of the doubt (at least until proven wrong), and will often accept what people say and do at face value instead of making conjectures about their motives. You will at least try to find the good in even the most difficult of people, and are willing to place your faith in others. Unlike their more positive counterparts, pessimists have a lot of difficulty trusting others, believing that most, if not all people have hidden agendas. Tempered with that necessary dose of skepticism, your fairly trusting and accepting nature is refreshing, and likely provides you with a much more balanced and upbeat perspective overall."

__________________________
Which I think is absolutely true.
I think my in filter is pessimistic which is why I initially take things rather hard and end up in some nice depressing holes. But my out filter is optimistic which means I almost always end up seeing the beauty in things. And most times, things come in and go out so fast I don't have time to even notice the pessimistic outlook because it's already been filtered through the optimistic. Lucky me! That all stems from my "Shoulder Shrug Theory" which is for another time.
The problem is when one thing is coming in and one thing is going out at the same time.
That is when I annoy myself.
Quandary # 4356 about myself solved.
(you didn't even know it WAS a quandary did you?)

eating my own words

There are times we come across a great idea or concept (hip hip).We get excited about that idea and think about it lots and we talk about it with other people.

Maybe, we even blog about it.

Of course,

... There are times when you realize your foot just ended up in your mouth...

When the things you crafted in your head and then so heartily ate make you sick to you stomach.

I just spend the last 2 hours thinking "that's not fair" over and over and over again concerning an event that I had just found out occurred.
I thought it,
kicked a couple walls and...er...lockers,
thought it again.
Took a breath to say it again and found myself cut off -there was something squeaking in my ear...

It was my own voice echoing back my recent penned words of "so what?" and reminding myself of all little beautiful things I had written that come from un-fairness! The nerve of me! It didn't make me feel better, it made me bitter at myself for writing words that came to chase me in my peppy optimistic little voice. It's annoying when I can't argue with myself and it's even more annoying when i want to kick some more lockers.

Sometimes, I just downright annoy myself. It's just not fair. (so there!)

Van Gogh's journal

'To lose a passport was the least
of one's worries. To lose a
notebook was a catastrophe.'
Bruce Chatwin

I certainly feel the same way. I have several notebooks and journals that are in working order and should I find myself somewhere without paper and pen I feel...rather naked.

There's just something about pen and paper. About the contact of a writing utensil as it forms lines and swirls to become something potentially life changing.
The contents become invaluable.

And it's different each time. I search for journals. Certain types need to be simple or ornate, plain or lined, large or small. Sometimes I have to write with pencil, sometimes a certain pen, sometimes even a certain color. I have a journal where I right musings from life that are half thinking on paper and half prayers. I have 3 mead notebooks for general info, historical studies, and writing excerpts from books and publications ; I have a quote journal (my fanciest journal); a blank journal to scribble pictures of fancy words ornately; and last but not least...
my moleskin.

(shameless plug below)

Moleskine is a product I scoffed at for quite awhile. Who would pay that much for paper just because it has "history". Too Fancy. As though a certain journal will really change the way you write or think.
As some of you may know however, I easily buy into things...
One day in college my friend Megan took me to the school library and we stood in front of pictures of alumni in our school library. We stood and stared for a few minutes, contemplating their lives. Their history, their impact.
Since then I feel almost everywhere I go there is a sacred history. People, places, cars, pictures. This tea cup I drink rose tea out of in this coffee shop....holds history. Who picked this tea, dried it? where is it from? Who else has drank out of this cup and this tea pot? what conversations have occurred at this table? Everything.

Then one day my friend Matt bought a moleskin and before I could say some snide comment on the waste of money he transformed the notebook into a sacred text "it was used by Van Gogh"

Bam. I was sold. I bought into it.
...the famed journals used by Vincent Van Gogh, Pablo Picasso, Ernest Hemingway. I buy into the inspirational guise and fork out the 16.95 for the lined journal as though it's link to the past will connect me to the minds who have purchased from the same company.
It makes me smarter- I mean I sound smarter right now don't I? (note the self mockery)

Actually even though it's still just paper, it is my belief in that paper that reminds me of the history of others. My first moleskin is used for a book log. I write down the books that have altered my thinking and include the most thought provoking passages. So in a way- it does connect me. I hold that notebook and feel linked to those words, ideas, and authors.

Call me a sucker....but I know in my future there will be more Moleskins. I have just found out that Moleskine now has a city notebook line (Mari you might like these). Maps and markers, transportation and space to log your city experiences. I'm not usually too fond of those journal's that "help" you with entries. however considering my recent conversion to theses journals I anticipate the release of more cities and shamelessly recommend their products.

(end of shameless plug)

I encourage pen (or pencil) to paper. Sometimes I write my initial thoughts on the computer. Sometimes my hand writes slower than my fingers type and I need to keep up with the spinning thoughts. But often- half the release of writing comes not from the meaning in the words, but in merely forming the symbols across the page and seeing your work.
Writing
"I feel trapped" or "My soul is peaceful"
means a lot more scribbled on a piece of paper than it does typed in a word document.

Writing doesn't have to be long. Even one sentence can mean the world to you or someone else. No matter what type of paper it's on...
try it.

p.s. if you don't like what you wrote you can convert it to Toilet paper....