* * *

04.16.11 fort funston

2011-04-18T16:07:00.001-04:00

04.16.11 fort funston, a set on Flickr.

"i thought i could live without romance"

2009-08-15T18:12:00.001-04:00

Maybe someday he will serenade me...on a trip to Graceland perhaps?

desire

2009-01-15T21:14:00.000-05:00

I want you to need me.
I need you to want me.

serendipitous ways of discovery

2009-01-14T23:59:00.004-05:00

Reveal/Conceal

Veil/Unveil

Hide/Disclose

See/Unseen

Surface/Inside

Glimpse/Gaze

Expose/Shelter

mirror glance

2009-01-13T10:23:00.000-05:00

He asked about the future the other day. I had no answer. It is the first time perhaps that I’m caught off guard to such an inquiry. I’m trying to pinpoint exactly when the moving forward of time stopped for me. Of course I am propelled into the present every day when I wake up and go through the daily motions of work, the monthly necessary appointments, the yearly rituals of the holidays. One might call it living in the present but I somehow feel even slightly detached from that. It is easy to differentiate the past, a place long off. The present and future are not so distinct.

“For what is time? Who can easily and briefly explain it? Who can even comprehend it in thought or put the answer into words? Yet is it not true that in conversation we refer to nothing more familiarly or knowingly than time? And surely we understand when we speak of it; we understand it also when we hear another speak of it.

What, then, is time? If no one asks me, I know what it is. If I wish to explain it to him who asks me, I do not know…how is it that there are the two times, past and future, when even the past is now no longer and the future is now not yet?”(1)

Nearly 3 years past since I wrote the following: There still lies a distance between their gazes. He sees her & she sees him. Little by little they grow closer. Closer in love. Closer in thought. Closer in word. She looks into her magical one-eyed box hoping to see a future where that distance has been eliminated. The mirror whispers an answer into her ear saying, "Yes...yes...the time is fast approaching and it will be of lasting proportions..." She smiles. Her heart is happy and in the near distance she sees the smile on his lips. His smile reveals to her that the mirror has also told him of the very same secret.

Three years, and that small glimpse into the future (now past) has proven itself true in every way. Now if only I could again find that magic box and mirror that would divulge another glance into the present future (a glance captures more than a glimpse).

(1) from St. Augustine’s Confessions, Book xi, Chapter xiv entitled “Neither Time Past nor Future, But the Present Only, Really Is.”

time to begin again...not anew, just again

2009-01-02T17:27:00.003-05:00

He looked at his own Soul with a Telescope. What seemed all irregular, he saw and shewed to be beautiful Constellations; and he added to the Consciousness hidden worlds within worlds." -Samuel Taylor Coleridge, "The Notebooks"

first days

2009-01-01T11:58:00.007-05:00

intent on learning about this Wii thing..., originally uploaded by estimmel.

in the near distance

2008-11-23T22:04:00.005-05:00

a rare january sunset

2008-01-13T23:14:00.003-05:00

a rare january sunset, originally uploaded by prettyjjbean.

falling

2007-10-29T22:25:00.002-04:00

It is such a wonderful, tender moment, when you fall in love. The duration of the falling itself is inexplicable. Sometimes it is a torturous tumbling of years, other times it is a fleeting moment of two pairs of eyes meeting on the street. But the feeling itself, once you have fallen lasts forever in your mind.

I remember the summer that I fell in love with John Keats. And today I remember him with more affliction than most days.

No, no! go not to Lethe, neither twist
Wolf's-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;
Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kissed
By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine;
Make not your rosary of yew-berries,
Nor let the beetle nor the death-moth be
Your mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl
A partner in your sorrow's mysteries;
For shade to shade will come too drowsily,
And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<But when the melancholy fit shall fall
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud,
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<That fosters the droop-headed flowers all,
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<And hides the green hill in an April shroud;
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose,
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave,
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<Or on the wealth of globed peonies;
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows,
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave,
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.

She dwells with Beauty -- Beauty that must die;
And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips
Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh,
Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips;
Ay, in the very temple of delight
Veiled Melancholy has her sovran shrine,
Though seen of none save him whose strenuous
tongue
Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine;
His soul shall taste the sadness of her might,
And be among her cloudy trophies hung.

-Ode On Melancholy by John Keats

suddenly i cannot work any more.

2007-10-11T17:50:00.003-04:00

x marks the spot, originally uploaded by prettyjjbean.

Waiting for the peak can be risky. Once the peak is here the leaves are at a very tender stage. They dangle by a few molecules at the stem base where it connects to the twig. One good storm and down they come. Peak today, thunderstorm with winds and rain tonight, no leaves tomorrow. While the storm will not strip all the leaves off the trees, it will destroy the full glory of the peak's color. -taken from the Ozark Fall Foliage site

It's been raining for two days now.

unlike a parasite

2007-10-01T22:52:00.002-04:00

unlike a parasite, originally uploaded by prettyjjbean.

As defined on wikipedia: "A Mutualism is an interaction between individuals of two different species, where both individuals derive a fitness benefit, for example increased survivorship. Similar interactions within a species are known as co-operation. Mutualism may be classified in terms of the closeness of association, the closest being symbiosis, which is often confused with mutualism. One or both species involved in the interaction may be obligate, meaning they cannot survive in the short or long term without the other species."

trapped inside the labyrinth

2007-10-01T00:27:00.002-04:00

trapped inside the labyrinth, originally uploaded by prettyjjbean.

Sometimes it is difficult finding our way back through the mirror. As much as I desire to write here, to draw there, to photograph this, or cook that the hours and energy disappear without even trying. I'm trying to make an effort to push myself, to see things, to observe and become inspired. So often, it is easy to watch the weekend pass by in front of our laptops, catching up with rss feeds, doing laundry, watching Netflix tv episode after episode... Before we know it, Monday has arrived and our brains are still the same size as they were when we left work Friday night. I find myself in much better spirits walking and discovering, breathing the "fresh" air of New York streets and parks.

It would have been so easy just moments ago to drift off to sleep and let the day pass un-noted. I have to give myself a swift jolt and deny myself that pleasure for the moment. Instead tomorrow, I will be able to say I have written something. I have photographed something. I went somewhere. I did something worthwhile this weekend.*

*read this past week from The Healthy Brain Initiaive - A National Public Road Map to Maintaining Cognitive Health: "Mental health encompasses emotional functioning and the ability to think, reason, and remember (cognitive functioning). While standardized, widely accepted definitions of cognitive health have yet to be adopted, most experts agree that the components of healthy cognitive functioning include: language, thought, memory, executive function (the ability to plan and carry out tasks), judgment, attention, perception, remembered skills (such as driving), ability to live a purposeful life."

before i sleep

2007-09-23T16:18:00.000-04:00

I've been trying hard (ok, well not hard enough) to finish Dave Eggers' You Shall Know Our Velocity. It has been neither difficult nor extremely exciting reading. I tend to grab the book just before sleep catches me by my eyelids, finishing only 10 pages or so a night, quite unlike my normal reading tendencies. Finally nearing the last 25 percent of the book and a couple passages have struck hard and true. One a gentle yet firm reminder that sometimes all the pieces of our knowledge don't add up to equal anything understandable. Another, not so pertinent to me personally as of late, but good words that I've been able to pass on to others regarding work frustration, future career paths, perhaps it applies to our own personal growths as well.

"It's a decadent mind , a mind that has known ennui and passed through it to something more dangerous, that wants fictional contraptions over the more difficult - sometimes more obvious and clear, other times utterly incomprehensible - truth of fact. But this is the opinion of a man who knows nothing, and it's the opinion that I throw at you to make you angry. Anyway, I read news and look for and collect facts because so far they they haven't added up to anything. I had pictured, as a younger man, that the things I knew and would know were bricks in something that would, effortlessly, eventually, shape itself into something recognizable, meaningful. A massive and spiritual sort of geometry - a ziggurat, a pyramid. But here I am now, so many years on, and if there is a shape to all this, it hasn't revealed itself. But no, thus far the things I know grow out, not up, and what might connect all these things, connective tissue or synapses, or just some sense of order, doesn't exist, or isn't functioning, and what I knew at twenty-seven can't be found now." (p.276)

"I believe in fact, and I believe in the plain truth told wholly - that the truth be retold can be a net thrown around life at a certain time and place, encompassing all within, and that people can go out there, live as actors, work within their staging ground, do so with a soft heart; I want others to go out in the world with an idea, with intentions and means, and come back with a story about how their actions affected the world and how they themselves were shaped by the results. I have a belief that such endeavors can improve the world, however recklessly, especially when these people go forward and interact, give, solve, change the situations they encounter - and also, even those with no intentions of recording their actions. There's nothing to be gained from passive observance, the simple documenting of conditions, because, at its core, it sets a bad example. Every time something is observed and not fixed, or when one has a chance to give in some way and does not, there is a lie being told, the same lie we all know by heart but which needn't be reiterated." (p.297)

a fresh, blank, new start

2007-09-23T16:03:00.001-04:00

happy birthday to me!

2007-02-21T21:53:00.002-05:00

happy birthday!, originally uploaded by estimmel.

eric made this silly birthday picture wish of/for me...and as he says himself, "it's weird to see a birthday card/image with your own face wishing you a happy birthday...(he just loves) this picture and it just seemed right...even though it's wrong"...anyhow, long story short, it made me laugh.

this holiday...

2007-02-14T16:56:00.002-05:00

cold city, originally uploaded by Jenblossom.

always leaves me with a slight bittersweet/melancholic/saturnine taste in my heart...despite current states of content happiness, my mind cannot help but conjour images of broken glass, mending hearts, warm tears. and while all these things may seem dismal and sad to most, i am so grateful for the feeling and memories that rise up within me. the saddest thing of all would be to lose a memory to a blank sheet of nothing, no matter how wonderful/horrid/earth-shattering that memory is.

walking out this morning into the cold, snow-swept sidewalk was the near perfect way to begin the day. a clean fresh blast of air upon my face and cheeks to awaken me to the pain, joy, misery, laughter, and more that i have had in my life. i can only hope that all my loves (past & present, brief & enduring, romantic & platonic), know how profoundly you have left imprints upon me....like footsteps left in the freshly fallen snow.

v-day thinking

2007-02-14T16:33:00.000-05:00

In the battle for belonging
Every doorbell has its code
With a stare it can be opened
Now you have it now you don't

There are buildings there are people
Walk around and look up to
Every swallow has its season
Every gallow has its noon

By the rythm of your language
By the sparkle in your stride
Talk in riddles or be candid
With a shield or open wide

The lesson you must learn
No one could ever teach
Open up and reach for the stars

Above you
Above you

If you have a way of knowing
Every river can be crossed
Lose the sparrow that had landed
For the one that never was

There's a song for every dreamer
As they climb over this fence
Trading roses for the real world
As the second week commences

Where no one has control
Where the young clipse the old
Predjudice and wisdom
All the same

I want you
I want you

lyrics to "Above You" by The Whitest Boy Alive

interrupted & unfinished sundays

2007-02-11T15:45:00.000-05:00

I wonder lately if it is possible to be allergic to a city. Since moving here (not quite 6 months now), I've had a bad congestion cold maybe 3 times, food poisoning once, + general stomach uneasiness at least twice. It's only two months into the new year and I've already used 2.5 sick days from work. In general, my body has been all out of whack. It's putting a little bit of a damper upon me, but I'm trying to be resilient and fight back. Someone suggested that the new city might just have a whole new set of germs that my body isn't used to. Or perhaps it is the fact that I'm forced to interact with a multitude of more people than I am normally used to. New York is a dirty city indeed, ridden with germs at every crevice and corner. It is no wonder to me why I have been so ill. It could also be that all the changes that have occurred the past six months has had a heavy effect upon my mental/bodily state...or even the fact that my iPod has died and needs fixing, my desktop computer has a weird blue screen of death, and now the kittie has knocked over my external hard drive (which has my entire life on it!!!) & it is now making horrible sounds...*scrunched up face of worriment and fear*...yikes...I've been trying desperately not to think of the consequences of this...anyhow....

*got distracted by my pretty turkish friend who now resides in canadia...finally we could see each other...thank you webcam*

little miss sunshine

2007-01-27T16:57:00.006-05:00

little miss sunshine, originally uploaded by estimmel.

So, for the first time in a long while, we are out and about. A saturday afternoon laptop date at the coffeeshop just down the street from our house. It feels wonderful to sit in a room outside of my cubicle and apartment. I have been a little grey and down these past days because I have missed the exploring, the being out, the people watching. I often wonder why I haven't made this more of a nightly habit like I so used to enjoy. This morning I was reminded of some of my first days in Montreal. I was alone in that city and for some reason it seemed much easier to roam about as I pleased. It seems meeting people was easier and general happiness was a nonchalant thing that just happened. I have been thinking a lot lately if things have changed so much because of one of/combination of the following:

-the change of place (since August we've been living in Brooklyn)
-I'm back in a nine to five working job (working in midtown Manhattan since September)
-I am no longer alone (he moved in May to me & has yet to be tired of me...amazing)
-I am removed from my close friends (moving has taken care of most of this but there have also been a couple severed limbs)
-it is winter and it is cold (self-explanatory for those who suffer from seasonal adjustment disorder)
-somehow I missed my Autumn yearly rejuvenation/self-reflection (between moving/working, one weekend I woke up and all the leaves were gone in Central Park)

As much as I am grateful and happy for a secure job/a wonderful boyfriend/a BIGger than closet place to live, I miss the insecurities of the life which somehow inspired my creativity. TI ofhe fact it is now winter, has a debilitating force upon me. The cold keeps me shaking and shivering, my arms wrapped around myself that I lack the desire to embrace new places/new things. It seems it is all a viscious circle that I must be shaken out of. Today I am trying to shake out of it and get back into the me that I love.

I've been reading Henry Miller's trilogy, The Rosy Crucifixion. I finally finished book one "Sexus" and now I'm onto "Plexus". It speaks of Henry's days in New York, living in Brooklyn, walking in the Lower East side...riding the trains to a deserted winter Coney Island (this has been on my to-do list for weeks now). Somehow I find a comfort and connectivity in the places where I walk, I see the streets thru a different lens and realize that the same Orthodox Jewish neighborhoods I see haven't changed too much in the last 60 years. I've been horrible about reading ever since my departure from Montreal. Julien has started reading a book a week (52 for the year) and I should thank him for making me feel like a slacker.

Other failed projects that are sitting untouched *pulls out her special new "list sketchbook" (a place for only lists i.e. to do, movies to watch, projects to tackle, music to buy, people to write, blog titles to scribe about, etc):

-work on my website www.linesthatwalk.com, it's just been sitting waiting ever-so-patient for some love and attention
-build my Flash interactive life travel map (a way to share my personal timeline of where I've been and what I've seen)
-sketch/collage a day (ugh...how come I've stopped doing all the things which make me happy inside?)
-study/take more Architecural Registration Exams (a step forward to liberate oneself from "the man"---who is that guy anyhow?)
-make more postcard book sets (I made special postcard sets for xmas...one for Er.c's sister and one for my mom of my 30cities.365days Flickr sets...it felt awesome when I received one of MY postcards from his sister...i want to feel special again.)
-fix my desktop computer---oof...i think it has a case of the blue screen of death.
-submit pictures to the Brooklyn Artist's Gym upcoming show on "Reflection" (uh-oh...january 26th deadline came and went---DOH!)
-build a flatfile for all my drawings that have yet to find a place in our apartment
-build a cardboard staircase for my new kittie, Azriel, so she can get to & fro our loft bed with ease.
-make moo.com cards for any occasion
-write/send all our xmas books to both our relatives with thanks you (ugh....soooooo late! it's nearly february!)
-revisit the thought of artivistic in montreal (deadline is february 15th!!!)
-setup a good Autocad template .dag/.ctb file for future personal projects/work endeavors
-paint our kitchen (more strip removal)
-paint the bathroom with a single stripe
-build a low-standing closet
-entertain thoughts of exercise/yoga

So there...I've purged the major things on the to-accomplish list. Now onto the "what-have-we-done" to redeem myself and my conscience just a little. Eric and I went to California for one week. The trip was short and exhausting, but comforting and comfortable (it seems those would be the same thing, but if you think upon it, they are two very different feelings). We started our adventure subwaying to the JFK airtrain (my first time ever to fly out of New York). For just a moment, I saw the Saarinen wonder, the TWA terminal jewel that has circular penny-sized tiles on the floor/walls (or so I'm told, since it is closed to the public for renovation/restoration). It was so much smaller than I had imagined. It is strange to think how ideas are so grand within the small confines of our brain, and the realities of those ideas in actual space is so minute in comparison. Anyhow, my heart did a tiny little flip as it always does when posed before a wonderful piece of architecture. The trip started in southern California with Eric's mom, sister Amy, + sister Amy's boyfriend, JP. We entertained on Christmas eve a party of mother's friends...the tables were spread with cookies/sweets/cheeses/crackers galore...and introductions of JP and I, plus updates on the moving to New York had me exhausted by nights end. The day after xmas, all of us drove midway up California to a small beach-town for more visiting/family time with Er.c & Amy's dad+stepmom's. More introductions to uncle's and aunts, grandmother/grandfather, more talk of new york living, more, more more...

I was so relieved for the 1/2 hour that I finally got to spend on the beach (windy as all heck as it was, and I spend most of that time running down the beach after my hat). The wind and ocean air somehow cleansed me for that moment. I miss the days when I could go drive to "my beach"...it is one of the few places where I have ever been able to just be. To think of nothing. To be reminded that there are things bigger than me.
For some reason, the East River just doesn't cut it.

The point of all this is that by the time we arrived at my parents' house in the Bay Area, we were without any energy whatsoever. Eric and I passed out on the couch, and 3 hours later woke up realizing how badly we had needed that nap. Whenever visiting family is involved, multiple families now as it seems is my fate, it can never be called "vacation". Never in my life have I felt more like needing a vacation from my vacation when we returned to New York on New Year's day. It doesn't help that I've been so sick lately. I've had a major head cold/food poisoning/and another congestion cold all within a period of the last month. Once again, the drastic changes in weather have not been helping this matter, although I did relish in that one 75 degree January in New York day....*ahhh...remembering what it felt like to be wearing a t-shirt in the winter*

Time is winding down for the moment...a friend has asked us to her house tonight for dinner, and before we are all going to the Met to make something of our weekend. Weekends/weekdays seem to fill up so easily here that it is harder and harder to find alone/quiet time to wind down. I am so happy for this little moment of "solitude" he and I are sharing in at this present moment. (He is sitting across from blogging/catching up/doing the same as I). Of all the things I hope to accomplish, can we try to make more of an effort to do THIS again? My heart is happy right now and I miss that.

sauerkraut, borscht, kimchi, & coleslaw

2007-01-24T11:06:00.001-05:00

after chasing her hat..., originally uploaded by estimmel.

ok. prepare yourself. tonite, i'm making a comeback. new thoughts/pictures for the new year. in the meantime i have inscribed upon my brain, "we shall not let our minds turn to boiled cabbage." now if only i can get that saying into my heart so my actions can also be put into some forward moving motion. maybe they have been frozen from the new york coldness...i wonder how many layers of blankets it takes to warm up my initiative and creative spirit.

tonite...tonite...(hehe...now singing the smashing pumpkins song which reminds me of a time when we were all youthful and full of innocence)

happiness is just a jump into the mirror away

2006-12-08T14:04:00.000-05:00

planning an escape into the space of the mirror, originally uploaded by prettyjjbean.

the man in japan said, "images carry a lot of things even part of invisible things"...there are "Strange paths. surprises."...be "driven by emotions and sensuality."

i've been missing because:

2006-11-10T10:33:00.000-05:00

wall with NEW stripes, originally uploaded by estimmel.

i'm tired...did i mention the weekend just ended?

2006-10-15T23:11:00.000-04:00

IMG_8258.JPG, originally uploaded by gitdown.

perception

2006-10-14T10:11:00.000-04:00

«The view of various lines I am drawing on this blackboard calls forth just as many different feelings: the view of a broken or a continuous line produces certain effect on the nervous system itself. We get agreeable or disagreeable impressions from the lines perceived with our eyes. If we begin investigating the effect of these impressions on our ability to feel, with will come to being selective: one line tires us, the other line pleases; this system of non-interconnected lines excites us, and that rhythmic system calms us down; very soon you will see that selection goes spontaneously, and certain preferences get established, in them one would inevitably come to a conclusion that artists permanently select those lines and shapes which satisfy our senses. In this sphere of lines and shapes satisfying our senses, we again get proof of the omnipotence of harmony. What are the moments of aesthetic effect in architecture? The ones perceived with our eyes. What does our eye perceive? Surfaces, shapes, lines. So, the point is that from all parts of an architectural piece it is necessary to create a unity arising aesthetic excitation, a unity of shapes making it, spiritualizing it, attributing to it the relations and proportions between their parts which give our senses the impression of orderliness.» (Le Corbusier, 1924)

sometimes people suck

2006-10-12T13:21:00.000-04:00

sometimes people suck, originally uploaded by prettyjjbean.

oh dearest me, let me just skip a heartbeat and jump up and down to celebrate the wonderful joys of being a team-player...argh...*do you hear the blatant sarcasm just exuding from the pores of this page?*

can you spell headache?

2006-10-08T20:22:00.000-04:00

h---e---a----d----(er) a---c---(ack!)...i can't do it, my head hurts too much! *pout*

ipod shuffle play an be evil

2006-10-05T11:48:00.000-04:00

otisredding-0511, originally uploaded by raccoflickr.

otis redding's "just one more day" appeared out of no where, catching me off guard and leaving no room for escape, haunting that part of my conscience that i thought i had buried so well...

i've been missing you for so many days
i keep wanting you [lord} in so many ways
i cant get you off of my mind
but true love is so hard to find
i want yet another day
i need another day
darling, let me have another more day
and i can be anything that you want me to be, now
the sweet things you used to do to me
sometimes you used to say them to me
i can't forget those lovely days
but this is the price i am about to pay
i want another day
you can let me have just one more day
I need one more day
and I will do anything that you want me to to
i will do anything that you want me to do, now
say anything that you want me to say
buy you anything you want me to buy
and i can cherish you till the day I die
if you let me have another day
please let me have one more day
i want just one more day [lord}
and it can be anything that you want it to be

disguise

2006-10-04T10:28:00.000-04:00

excerpted reading material to chew on entitled "Disguise and display: recent publications detail a long-neglected aspect of Marcel Duchamp's seminal oeuvre—installation design as a work of art - Duchampiana I - analysis - Critical Essay" an article in Art in America by Sheldon Nodelman from March 2003:

"More fundamentally...lies in the intrinsically problematic nature of artistic biography itself. Which is primary, the 'work' or the 'life'? Does one explain the other? And where is the boundary between them? These are questions that Duchamp's example poses in a more acute--and surely more self-conscious--form than almost any other. Defining the artist as a 'mediumistic being' necessarily unconscious of the meaning of what he produces, Duchamp quoted approvingly the words of T.S. Eliot: 'The more perfect the artist, the more completely separate in him will be the man who suffers and the mind which creates.'"

the key to a good morning smile

2006-10-04T10:25:00.000-04:00

i woke up sunday morning groggy and still tired..a little apprehensive as to starting off the day (tho it already be mid-morning). i was luck to discover this video for a song called "dance with me" on nouvelle vague's new album. the black and white clip is guaranteed to put a smile on anyone's face who has a heart for all things cute, silly, and romantic. for those who are not familiar with this movie, it is a scene from jean-luc godard's "bande à part" (or "band of outsiders" for the non-french speakers). godard described this movie himself as "alice in wonderland meets franz kafka"...and as most of you know, i love tumbling down any rabbit hole to see what kinds of
adventures wait for me. *smile*

for me

2006-09-28T11:25:00.000-04:00

flowers for me, originally uploaded by prettyjjbean.

just about the nicest thing anyone has written about me...now i've got warm fuzzy feelings that will last me throughout the day, which is a wonderful comfort for a thursday.

dilemna

2006-09-26T22:54:00.000-04:00

guess what i finally bought today?, originally uploaded by prettyjjbean.

what happens one has absolutely nothing to say?

i spent the day bottled up at work...speaking hardly more than 100 words in a period of 8.5 hours. the most i talked all day was when receiving a phone call from an old friend in california who just rang to tell me of a memory that was stashed in a box of his.

perhaps that is why i feel like exploding now with words and my mind is racing with thoughts...but for some reason i can't get them out. there is no one to talk to, and my blog seems like a blank face with whom i just do not feel like conversating with tonite.

so, i don't want to talk...and yet, i somehow miss the sound of my own voice.

"all that is solid melts into air"

2006-09-25T22:18:00.000-04:00

i'm sitting here, waiting patiently (for once) for the pages to load so i can blog, and write and reflect on the day. i have time while the pages boot, to catch up on the lives of others, and it makes me happy to know that i am not the only one writing (thank you eric & isabelle). as the circle goes round and round, marking internet-time-gone-by, i turn my head to stretch my neck out which is slightly out of whack from another survived monday at work (woohoo! that makes 3 now!)...my eyesight focuses on a book which i have yet to still read. "all that is solid melts into air" by marshall berman.

i know very little what this book is actually about, but the phrase draws my mind to other places. i've just been thinking: what shall i write? what was important to me today? what did i see that struck a chord? what are the things i need remember?

the things which were so solid for me just hours ago, have now all melted into the thin, thin air.

if i did not write it here...right now...at this very moment...that last friday i witnessed a couple so in love on the subway that made my heart jump and giggle for joy, would i remember how the sparkle in her eyes died as soon as he left her two stops before she herself left me? *a pause to smile and imprint their smiling eyes and squeezed hands that was so vivid*

it is not only memorable moments which dissipate with time. i look back and remember motivations, goals, aspirations that i once considered so dear, so solid in this case...those too have melted into the thin. yes, there are certain dreams which have sustained throughout (perhaps the most strong of cases my desire to pursue a knowledge of what architecture is)...

but it would require much more careful thought to understand where and why those deviations have occurred, when was the moment they turned from a solid thing into air. did it take a long time? or was it instantaneous?

anyhow, the point of all this was: whatever i thought was important and worthwhile of the day, whatever list i was going to put here for me to remember to do, it all seems without meaning as my mind wanders towards the pillow and dreamland. i myself long to be caught up into the clouds and dream of being thin...

pokepoke*

2006-09-24T23:05:00.000-04:00

*poke*poke*, originally uploaded by prettyjjbean.

he sat behind me me on the couch, not more than 6 feet away. he was intent on his laptop. i was intent on my blog catching-up. the yellow high-lighter, and yellow post-it caught my attention, and from the silence i wanted to say hello in a cutsie, creative way. therefore...the howdy via yellow post-it. i spun aroun in my orange chair and flashed its message his way. he smiled, and emitted a small chuckle. i spun back around, and smiled and chuckled myself.

silliness is important. it is what keeps us sane. it is what keeps us smiling. it is what keeps the mood light and free, open even. if we cannot laugh at silly noises made at otherwise inopportune times, or giggle at crunchy bone-cracking, then there exists no fun, no games. without fun or games, we would live in an extremely bleak and dull world. who says that just because we are "grown up", with "real jobs", living a "mature" life that our mouths are forbidden to crack upwards.

let the funny noises ensue and allow the bone-cracking to persist. it is these moments that i will remember fondly. in turn, it will be these memories that will make me laugh once more even when i am old and grey.

make-up post #2 (for 09.23.06)

2006-09-24T21:45:00.000-04:00

where are you going?, originally uploaded by prettyjjbean.

as an attempt to give myself a good creative project, plus have something to post on my website, i've decided to make a map that shows all the places i've been/lived/worked (him too)...this is the beginnings of that list...i'll need to wrack my brain to remember those childhood road/plane-trips. but i'm excited that it will give me a chance to talk with mom & dad about all the places we've traveled. it will also be a good opportunity for me to ponder all those places that i have yet to visit and explore. i'm getting that 4 month itch to get on a plane and go somewhere, to see something new...i know, i know...i've just moved to new york and that should be enough new....but i crave adventure requiring more than just a subway ride.

make-up post #1 (for 09.22.06)

2006-09-24T21:10:00.000-04:00

THINK-ACT-REFLECT, originally uploaded by prettyjjbean.

the internet has been down and out, just like the L train, this weekend. thus the behind, and lack of posts. in my attempt to make it up, i thought that i would take a few little snippets from my moleskine, of thoughts and notes that were profound and important to me.

this first snip, are clips of an idea that relates to making as a way of seeing. this idea has been around along time already, however, at the time of my scribbles, it was my own little revelation of how living a life of making (architecture in this instance) was directly applicable to me.

the first diagram shows this process of think-act-reflect, in a continuous circle...and it is something which can be translated into anything you are doing (making a drawing, writing a letter, preparing a grocery list). the next line in the notes: "too much reflection without action makes me nervous...the same goes for thikning"...hehe, there is so much truth to this, all three must be acting in a balance, neither one can overpower the other.

th remainder of the notes are for those who are nerds like me...there are references to filibert de l'orme's "allegory of the architect" (whose wood engraved prints are just amazing...i was lucky to see a copy of one of the first printed books while in montreal). also, a treatise i think that was entitled "fabrique"/"fabrica" where the frontispiece shows a surgeon holding an arm and in the process of anatomical studies...there is also a note how corbusier's famous sketches/concept of the open hand looks often like there is an eye within the palm itself. his drawings of the open hand, also can be seen as a closed hand. an open hand implies receiving, whereas a closed hand implies a hand of action (think of a hand which holds a tool). it could be conceived then that this hand is not one which is merely open/closed but rather a giving hand. a hand which gives is the union of the open & closed together (recall the process of making, something which created/given by its maker).

ugh...i'm such a dork

2006-09-21T14:45:00.000-04:00

blog-a-day-project

2006-09-21T11:17:00.000-04:00

this blog-a-day project is going well...i know it's only been three days into it, but i feel confident about pushing myself on this one. i never before have made writing a priority. this place just became a place to record memories or thoughts i had, or a way to encrypt a message to someone else letting them know that i was alive and well. i find by forcing myself to write, i think about the day differently. i am on a search for important things to say...picking apart at every detail around me. i look at the billboard advertisements looking for treasures, mentally record overheard conversations and definitely pay more attention to the things which strike a chord in me.

i've been told by many that i see things much differently than the average human bean. i concoct stories in my head that make what i see into what i feel. these stories often pass from my eyes thru my brain, but are never uttered by my mouth or recorded by my hand. sometimes these stories become evident in my drawings/collages, but in this area i also have been slacking as of late.

this is my own personal kick in the bum to get my creative self moving again...please help to keep me accountable.

song of the day

2006-09-20T12:09:00.000-04:00

good mood...feeling productive...slept soundly till the three alarm snooze went off this morning. i woke next to him, who was still sleeping heavily, i touched his hair and kissed his cheek and stared at him for a while before finally getting out of bed to get ready for work. i have real work now at my archi-job and it feels refreshing to come in have something important to do. i've officially hit the two week mark and survived...i almost know everyone's name, and a routine has been settled into...well almost. i've been set up with my own personal phone line. they've set up architectural desktop on my computer specifically for a project i will begin working on soon. my desk is becoming full of "stuff"...redlines, trace paper, aerial photos, starbucks coffee cups. my ipod has a home, and i've finally been given a cup for my pens and pencils. all that is lacking is "my essence"...the photo that resides at everyone's cubicle that says their name + photo of their choosing. i've adjusted my chair to it's proper spot, hopefully preventing massive back pain, but it still doesn't fit quite right.

at home my finances seem to be shaping into an order of some sort. finally i'll be able to feel like a responsible adult again, able to pay my own bills, save my own money, think of that exotic vacation that i am dead set on taking next year to somewhere...*sigh*...if all goes well, i'll actually be able to afford toys & luxuries again (new camera & mani/pedi-cures, who could ask for anything more to make this little girl happy?)...ah...reminds me, i need to find taht moleskine at lunch...

i leave you with the happy song for the day, "white shadows" by coldplay. my buttercup of an ipod has been on continual shuffle these days and for some reason as this played, my mood lightened and ears perked at the lyrics...my first song to add to the beginning of a new york soundtrack. three minutes till lunchtime...

When I was a young boy I tried to listen

And I wanna feel like that
Little white shadows - blink and miss them
Part of a system I am

If you ever feel like something's missing
Things you never understand
Little white shadows sparkle and glisten
Part of a system, a plan

All this noise I'm waking up
All this space I'm taking up
All this sound is breaking up

Maybe you'll get what you wanted
Maybe you'll stumble upon it
Everything you ever wanted
In a permanent state

Maybe you'll know when you see it
Maybe if you say it you'll mean it
And when you find it you'll keep it
In a permanent state, a permanent state

When I was a young boy I tried to listen
Don't you wanna feel like that?
You're part of the human race
All of the stars in the outer space
Part of a system, a plan

All this noise I'm waking up
All this space I'm taking up
I cannot hear you're breaking up

Maybe you'll get what you wanted
Maybe you'll stumble upon it
Everything you ever wanted
In a permanent state

Maybe you'll know when you see it
Maybe if you say it you'll mean it
And when you find it you'll keep it
In a permanent state, a permanent state

Swimmin' on a sea of faces
The tide of the human races, oh
An answer now is what I need
See it in the new sun rise and
See it break on your horizon, oh
Come on love stay with me

an attempt to fling myself into the deep, dark, temple lair

2006-09-19T22:00:00.000-04:00

Hypnerotomachia Poliphili page,
originally uploaded by Rashomon.

I've been missing this place of writing lately. I've had the yearning to let my fingers flow, to let my mind ramble on as it so often does, to open up and share the things that are continually getting stored and buried inside of me. I blame it on the change, on my laziness, on my "falling into a routine". I blame it on being happy and content, and for the first time in a long time, being able to let my guard down and breathe a deep breath of New York grime.

As most of you know, I've begun working my new job, decidedly finished with school, moved to a new city, settled with a new boy (well not so new I suppose, it's been 2 New Year's now since we exchanged first glances), finally found a place for most everything in the apartment (there still remain a few boxes with stragglers searching for their place to be).

I wish I could say I miss my friends, I miss my old life, I miss something...but I don't. Although I am not beaming with joy yet (the noises and the mass amounts of people are taking time to grow accustomed to), I find myself not at all longing for any of the last five years in that place I could never really call home. I leave work now, today for example, with the thought and more importantly, the knowing, that there is someone waiting for me, ready to greet me with a smile, albeit from behind a laptop screen, but there nonetheless. There is a peace in my heart, and the hurt and wounds of years long since past are finally not even on the cusp of being remembered.

*pause*

I'm reading Henry Miller's "The Rosy Crucifiction"...I've merely begun to read Part One entitled "Sexus" but have already found a thousand gems that I find solace in:

"To write, I meditated, must be an act devoid of will. The word, like the deep ocean current, has to float to the surface of its own impulse. A child has no need to write, he is innocent. A man writes to throw off the poison which he has accumulated because of his false way of life. (Note to self: This remind me of a preview we just saw recently which said: New York is the place where people go to be forgiven...this resounded with me, especially while I continued to ponder whether I truly had moved here or not to do just that - be forgiven.) He (back to the writer) is trying to recapture his innocence, yet all he succeeds in doing (by writing) is to innoculate the world with a virus of his disillusionment. No man would set a word down on paper if he had the courage to live out what he believed in. His inspiration is deflected at the source. If it is a world of truth, beauty and magic that he desires to create, why does he put millions of words between himself and the reality of that world? Why does he defer action - unless it be that, like other men, what he really desires is power, fame, success. 'Books are human actions in death,' said Balzac. Yet, having perceived the truth, he deliberately surrendered the angel to the demon which possessed him.

"A writer woos his public just as ignominously as a politician or any other mountebank; he loves to finger the great pulse, to prescribe like a physician, to win a place for himself, to be recognized as a force, to receive the full cup of adulation, even if it be deferred a thousand years. He doesn't want a new world which might be established immediately, because he knows it would never suit him. He wants an impossible world in which he is the uncrowned puppet-ruler dominated by forces utterly beyond his control. He is content to rule insiduously - in the fictive world of symbols - because the very thought of contact with rude and brutal realities frightens him. True, he has a greater grasp of reality than other men, but he makes no effort to impose that higher reality on the world by force of example. He is satisfied just to preach, to drag along in the wake of disasters and catastrophes, a death-croking prophet always without honor, always stoned, always shunned by those who, however unsuited for their tasks, are ready and willing to assume responsibility for the affairs of the world. The truly great writer does not want to write: he wants the world to be a place in which he can live the life of his imagination. The first quivering word he puts to paper is the word of the wounded angel: pain. The process of putting down words is equivalent to giving oneself a narcotic. Observing the growth of a book under his hands, the author swells with delusions of grandeur. 'I too am a conqueror - perhaps the greatest conqueror of all! My day is coming. I will enslave the world - by the magic of words...' Et cetera ad nauseum." (pages 17-18)

I am going to attempt to write everyday, from here on out, whether I have something "worthwhile" or not. I need to get back into my habits that I find a comfort for me, the writing, the drawing. I've been without a proper moleskine to draw in, and I've been without a proper mood to write in. I intend on finding the art store that sells my particular sketchbook, and to forget about trying to find something important to say. I intend to throw myself back into my imagined story life where reality makes itself real for me. I want to share my life of imagination with you so that you can tell me how silly I am, how real I am. The only way that truths or knowledge can become evident, are thru dialogue and conversation with another. And even the most enlightening conversations begin everyday with just a simple hello...In this manner of thinking, why do I continue to believe it necessary to confess some great discovery (i.e. "The world is round.")...

*pause again*

So anyhow, and anyways, here I am, just saying, "Hello."

ownership

2006-09-18T22:32:00.000-04:00

new york times (september 16, 2006),
originally uploaded by prettyjjbean.

from "the new york times" on september 16, 2006:

"Who owns memory? Or, perhaps more pertinently, who selects memory? History, it was once said, is what countries try to remember and try to forget. But for humnity that is hardly an adequate formula. The horrors that people would like to forget...are often those that they should remember. for many individual memory is easier than collective memory. And Pierre Levi's suitcase? Well, in a sense, by fighting to secure his own memory, Mr. Levi-Leleu has reinforced the collective memory. He wants to recover his father's suitcase but, in the process, he has also drawn attention to all other suitcases...whose owners will never be known."

noooooooooo!

2006-08-27T10:15:00.000-04:00

Nabaztag Sunday afternoon, originally uploaded by Patrick Ng.

everyone is getting them...don't worry my little nabaztag...i will come for you someday!

it's been a long time...i'm sorry but i don't write when i'm unhappy...

2006-08-22T22:27:00.000-04:00

This is a slight attempt to get out of my educative complacency...a way to figure out how to get myself motivated and back into the swing of things. I am unsure how the next couple weeks are going to turn out, if in fact they will turn into the next few months. Part of me just wants to give up and say forget it all...in fact, it is turning out not to help my job search anyways, and part of me just wants to move on to bigger and better things. I find inspiration in other places & people these days and my heart and mind are much more rewarded than ever before. I feel for the first time, a cohesion between heart, home, future, ambitions...this makes me smile in contentment...I do not know if ever there was a time before that this strange coming together has ever happened.

"To write, I meditated, must be an act devoid of will. The word, like the deap ocean current, has to float to the surface of its own impulse. A child has no need to write, he is innocent. A man writes to throw off the poison which he has accumulated because of his false way of life. He is trying to recapture his innocence, yet all he succeeds in doing (by writing) is to inoculate the world with a virus os his disillusionement. No man would set a word down on paper if he had the courage to live out what he believed in. His inspiration is deflected at the source. If it is a world of truth, beauty and magic that he desires to create, why does he put millions of words between himself and the reality of that world? Why does he defer action - unless it be that, like other men, what he really despires is power, fame, success. 'Books are human actions in death,' said Balzac. Yet, having perceived the truth, he deliberately surrendered the angel to the demon which possessed him.

A writer woos his public just as ignominously as a politician or any other mountebank; he loves to finger the great pulse, to prescribe like a physician, to win a place for himself, to be recognized as a force, to receive the full cup of adulation, even if it be deferred a thousand years. He doesn't want a new world which might be established immediately, because he knows it would never suit him. He wants an impossible world in which he is the uncrowned puppet-ruler dominated by forces utterly beyond his control. He is content to rule insiduously - in the fictive world of symbols - because the very thought of contact with rude and brutal realities frightens him. Tru, he has a greater grasp of reality than other men, but he makes no effort to impose that higher reality on the world by force of example. He is satisfied just to preach, to drag along in the wake of disasters and catastrophes, a death-croaking prophet always without honor, always stoned, always shunned by those who, however unsuited for their tasks, are ready and willing to assume responsibility for the affairs of the world. The truly great writer does not want to write: he wants the world to be a place in which he can live the life of his imagination. The first quivering word he puts to paper is the word of the wounded angel: pain. The process of putting down words is equivalent to giving oneself a narcotic. Observing the growth of a book under his hands, the author swells with delusions of grandeur. 'I too am a conqueror - perhaps the greatest conqueror of all! My day is coming. I will enslave the world - by the magic of words....' Et cetera ad nauseum." -Henry Miller, "The Rosy Crucifiction, part 1: Sexus", p.17-19

all things meez-y

2006-08-09T17:37:00.000-04:00

no wonder me & her get along so well

2006-07-28T01:13:00.000-04:00

isabelle, isabelle, my darling isabelle...

needy child
you scored 80 neediness!

OK, so it seems like you have that needy child inside, that child that needs to feel loved and wants everybody showing him they love him/her all the time, or else he feels unwanted; that child who cries when he/she is left alone in the house, the not at all independent child... sweet huh? only that freakin' kid u've got inside is screwing any chance of getting a decent lady/guy!! but in your case this needy thing only comes out from time to time, not all the time; so my advice is sending that fucking kid to foster home and be the secure adult you are supposed to be.

the needy-o-meter test

selfish song of the day

2006-07-28T00:15:00.000-04:00

Contrary to popular opinion

The very best things in life are for free
Through a practice that I call donation
I get the things I want quite easily
I got a chip on my shoulder
And a halo on my head
I'm an angel with an attitude
And my favorite color's red
I got god on my side
Who's that? Hell, I don't know
But I practice my religion
While I'm stepping on your toes
Goodness knows
I gave more than I took
Goodness knows
I ain't no saint I ain't no crook
Looking hard, yeah you busy bee
For a simple word you charge a simple fee
It's a little too late for too little
But it's never too late for a lot
It's a little too late for too little
But it's never too late to take 'em for what they got
Feed the world a giant crust of bread
Bake a cake and give it to 'em when they're dead
Well I'll take that cake and I will eat it too
I'll get more than I need so I can share the rest with you.

"Angel With an Attitude" by the DittyBops

choking

2006-07-26T19:40:00.000-04:00

"'The only frontier we have left is the world of intangibles. Everything else is sewn up too tight'... The unreal is more powerful than the real. Because nothing is as perfect as you can imagine it. Because it's only intangible ideas, concepts, beliefs, fantasies that last. Stone crumbles. Wood rots. People, well, they die. But things as fragile as a thought, a dream, a legend, they can go on and on. If you can change the way people think, she said. The way they see themselves. The way they see the world. If you do that, you can change the way people live their lives. And that's the only lasting thing you can create. Besides, at some point...your memories, your stories and adventures, will be the only thins you'll have left...'My goal is to be an engine of excitement in people's lives'...'My purpose is to give people glorious stories to tell.'"

from Choke by Chuck Palahniuk p. 159-160

what once was there, will never be again, a story must be told

2006-07-26T12:46:00.000-04:00

it is a sad thing when great things are torn down, taken away, demolished, destroyed...not too much longer than a year ago i was walking, wandering the streets of berlin and this lovely building and i had a conversation with one another. i didn't know what the building was at the moment, after six weeks of looking at maps and figuring out "the places to go", i was tired of planning ahead. i remember stopping in front of the palast de republik, looking up and thinking wow. plywood had become adequate replacements for windows of glass. the chain link fence hugged the building but at a distance of 3 meters all around...as if to say, "no way that i dare touch you, you dirty, old, falling apart building..."

*sigh*

following one link to another link to another via blog after blog, i fortuitously found a post dedicated solely to the old palast. it seems that it is bound for the land where only memories will keep it alive...demolition has begun already.

the beauty of this building was not the built entity of the palast itself, but rather the wonderful reflections of berliner dom from across the street. in reality, the domes that rest atop the baroque church are made of copper, the patina has turned to its green, but in an ugly manner that makes the church look dull and uninviting.

but in the reflection of the palast's bronze-like windows, the domed church takes on a life of its own. it becomes golden, a little mirage of heaven and not of this world where time destroys and weather copper and makes marble stain with dirt. in the relfection the building remains pristine & glorious.

i wonder if those who are tearing down the palast realize this: that in the demolition of the palast they are in fact really destroying the life of two buildings.

the images they use show the palast alone, decrepit...a ploy to hide the real wonders of the building...look closer and you might be able to have that wonderful silent conversation that i stumbled upon that day. just you and the golden domes, with the magical bronze windows as the mediator.

the death has already begun, and you can watch it here.

creating my own personal happiness for the day

2006-07-26T01:11:00.000-04:00

there are just some days when no matter how much people try their best to make us crack a smile and make us happy, it just doesn't work. the happiness has to come from inside ourselves. it is not meant to offend you who try so hard...the trying is much appreciated, really it is. but like those wonderful pictures of the abandoned amusement park (see here, here, & here), no fun can be had unless there are people on board (conductor & passenger alike)...i guess today as much as i tried my best, my frustrations got the better of me. no matter how many passengers hopped on board, this conductor just wasn't going anywhere. so i decided to take matters into my own hands and make a little something that will put a smile on this face...

what heaven must be like...

2006-07-21T11:55:00.000-04:00

as seen on archinect via my quite-wonderful flock news setup (it's like my own morning newspaper, save for the fact that i don't have to sift thru the sections i don't like!):

"California Coastal Records Project>>>Welcome to the California Coastal Records Project, an aerial photographic survey of the California Coastline from Oregon to Mexico. See this remarkable survey with many implications and uses."
*siiiiiiggggh* now i can visit my own personal piece of heaven (my favourite california beach of course) whenever i want...*big happy, wonderous smiles*

celebrity status

2006-07-20T16:16:00.000-04:00

my boyfriend is famous.......and i am officially not. ;( the four eyed monsters used HIS picture in episode 7.6! he was soo incredibly happy...i know he was hiding it for my sake but i could see him secretly doing cartwheels inside. see if you can spot his picture yourself!

gulp

2006-07-20T16:10:00.000-04:00

you are 68% evil

You are very evil.
And you're too evil to care.
Those who love you probably also fear you. A lot.

how evil are you?

connections to dorian gray

2006-07-20T13:18:00.000-04:00

"Everything one does in life, even love, occurs in an express train racing toward death. To smoke opium is to get out of the train while it is still moving. It is to concern oneself with something other than life or death." -Jean Cocteau

btw...i finished the book at last! woohoo! and it occurs to me that stories that are written today have no moral to them. it seems that in previous centuries, literature and the author wrote for the purpose of "having something to say"...to express some notion to the general audience that everyone "knows" but is afraid to say out loud. a friend of mine just finished reading "pride and prejudice" by jane austen and i "the picture of dorian gray" by oscar wilde. i recall the immense sympathy that i felt for raskolnikov in doestoevsky's "crime and punishment". the modern novel, perhaps i haven't read too many novels written of our time, doesn't seem to possess the same type of power to relate the character to you, the reader.

for example, although dorian gray was a 20 something male who had a benefactor which made him forever wealthy, attending operas and smoking in opium dens, i could very much understand the voice in his head. i'm definitely not forever wealthy, nor have i ever been to an opera and much less an opium den, but i could hear the conversations of thought that made his heart & motives go tick-tock very much within my own self.

everyone is in love with the dan brown novels these days..."the davinci code" and "angels & demons". i haven't read them yet, and so maybe i'm judgments that i shouldn't, but i just can't imagine how these books can "speak" to an audience for such a long period of time. what are going to be the dorian gray's and elizabeth bennett's of our day?

maybe eric is right...in our day and age, no one wants to be reminded of morality.

classic us

2006-07-15T23:05:00.000-04:00

and i quote from her myspace page: "liz + jenn reunited at last : mayhem and french fries ensues. "

a map to add myself to...

2006-07-15T18:41:00.000-04:00

once we drop off deposit money tomorrow and i know FOR CERTAIN this is where i'm going to be living, the first thing i'm going to due after sighing for relief from the freedom of homelessness, is to add myself to the

nyc bloggers by subway stop map.

yippee...jump for joy for i'm such the dork!

i'm here sitting in liz's new apartment, next to my darling liz. we are silent at the moment, both tip-typing away on the laptops (flashbacks to java-u!)...i owe her much loove for letting eric and i stay here with her and ruining her weekend of good sleep (she's putting herself out on the twin sized air mattress just for he & i...poor girl). anyhoo, i owe her dinner...something more rewarding than just a hug. we went out last night and had drunken ice-cream twisted, of course, and massive amounts of fries (more flashbacks to $2 canadian chinese windows). i'm going to like being in this city...

now, eveyone just keep their fingers crossed that the apartment we want will be ours by tomorrow afternoon...pray for divine intervention this time.

we've been spending a lot of time on blankets & sitting with one another

2006-07-12T01:28:00.000-04:00

a capitol fourth, er i mean third...the dusky evening hours of july 3rd were spent on the west lawn of the u.s. capitol. we were able to see the entire rehearsal minus the crowds and fireworks and torrential rain...the symphony played in our ears and small children bounced and spun around us...we got hungry because everyone else had brought picnic munchies...all i had to offer was water and a box of mentos.

the sun went down on us and it was the most beautiful piece of orange warmth setting just above the canadian embassy on our distant right. how wonderful it is to lay on a blanket, smell the green, green rass around you, look up into the sky and see one small moving dot of a plane above leaving streaks behind it...even more wonderful when you realize everyone else around you is looking at the show instead and you are the only two who see the treasure in the sky.

saturday lounging in alexandria by the water at powhatan park...we had our own little piece of grass, he went for an afternoon run along the boardwalk towards the wilson bridge...i picked wild flowers, tied them in a green stem bow, and bestowed them upon him. *smile*

we went to the spy museum this day...the afternoon was so perfect that it called for afternoon reading in the sun at the national sculpture garden fountain and then later a magnolia tree shaded nap on a bench.

at home relaxing on the couch...he's installing linux on the desktop in the background & showing me his joglog on his laptop...

posting just to post

2006-07-12T00:56:00.000-04:00

i've been urged that i should write something in order that my previous 4 emails get pushed down, down, down out-of-sight and swallowed up into the deep dark depths of the scroll bar. i haven't really felt like writing anything at all. perhaps it is because things just don't seem to be falling quite into place as i had dreamed of (not that i have been working extremely hard at changing that)...the only thing i can attribute it too is the phrase "resistance to change". i think that we all at one point or another resist change. in this case i mentally and emotionally welcome it. i cannot wait to leave this city, to find new places of solace since i feel i have established none here even after five years of living here. i've never really been able to call this town my home...yes, it is the place where i lay my head down to sleep at night. yes, it is where i have managed to scrape out some existence of a living. i've allowed a very small amount of people to enter into my heart and call them my friends, only to be burnt time and time again. i was so happy when i first moved here...i remember doing cartwheels in my studio apartment, the first time i have ever really lived all by myself for myself. and now, reminiscing such a moment i can't help but think, "what the hell were you thinking?" i suppose all of this may be subconsciously lingering in the recesses of my brain, contributing to my "resistance to change". i cannot wait to move and begin anew...to do cartwheels in my new apartment, which if all goes well, i'll be able to do more than just two before having to turn around the other direction.

the boy has been here with me now for a month and this in itself was change. i was fearful and scared of this by itself, not to mention the prospect of moving to new york with him, living with him, and just plain BEing with him. i am secretly happy that our july 1 apartment fell thru the cracks, it has minimized the stressed and drastic changes of getting to know each other + finding a new job + living in a new city rather to just enjoying each other's company...and for this i am very grateful. although at times i realize that he himself has picked up and changed cities and is in a sort of waiting zone...sigh...

so...i wonder just exactly how much i need to write to get that "i'm drunk" post off the top of the page...

did i mention that i bought my very own domain www.linesthatwalk.com the other day and started fiddling around...there isn't too much to see at the moment, just some tinkering that i did in flash, but hopefully soon it there will be more pretty things to see. i'm so happy that i could name it after my favourite paul klee regiment - "a line is merely a dot going for a walk" - you can see my silliness and how i made my dot go for a silly little shuffle across your screen.

i'm sorry i haven't been more blog inspiring or flickr happy...as i say, i write when i'm happy...and tho i'm happy (er, content is probably better) i am not settled and so that leads to unease and a discomfort that keeps me from writing constantly. i don't want you to worry, it's nothing to get upset about...change is in the air, that is all...

while i was sleeping

2006-06-29T14:40:00.000-04:00

while i was sleeping, originally uploaded by prettyjjbean.

see...naps CAN be productive.

btw...

2006-06-28T01:53:00.000-04:00

i'm drunk.

and....

2006-06-28T01:51:00.000-04:00

he's dancing to le tigre's "let's run"!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

but...

2006-06-28T01:48:00.000-04:00

i love him anyways....

boxers

2006-06-28T01:47:00.000-04:00

if he says,

"do you want these boxers that i hate?"

what do you say????

"of course i want them dear...."

i wanna go...anyone wanna be my date?

2006-06-22T13:33:00.000-04:00

so this is one of the few video podcasts that i've been following...the story of arin & susan + the making of their movie. anyhow, it's finally coming to washington d.c. i think that the video podcasts are fairly creative and i'm extremely impressed at how they are using podcasts/myspace/blog technology to do the major promoting of their film. it's a great example of the potentialities of today in saying something and actually getting people to listen to what you have to say. anyhow...watch the videos from episode 1 till now, watch the trailer, read the story, & if you are still interested, let me know about next wednesday---

Washington, DC - avalon theatre

wednesday, june 28th @ 8:00 PM
print B&W flier | directions | Who is attending
trailer | Video Podcast

aw man..why you gotta tease me like that?

2006-06-15T09:36:00.000-04:00

aw man.., originally uploaded by prettyjjbean.

so i didn't take this picture...but it is what awaited me on my firefox browser when i went to check the daily news happenings...above this cute little green monster were the words "montreal festival city"...ack! with the following link to this article talking about all the splendors of montreal...double ack!

i mean c'mon! this is torture! i KNOOOOOW montreal is wonderful already...one slight problem...i'm not there!

congratulation flashbacks

2006-06-15T00:39:00.000-04:00

warning: ok...so this posting is mainly because i want to celebrate with my favourite montreal girls tonite....they've worked so hard and i know must be completely exhausted but there is always room for a little shaky-shaky! i miss you guys...wish i were there so we could fall off stages together and jump out of cabs because we are about to puke...to walk home with each other and laugh at such high pitches that it is just plain annoying! congratulations, my dears! i'm so very proud of you!

the video is bad and sound not so good, but i know that it will be appreciated by those involved on that fateful night...liz is going to kill me for posting any of this at all. anyhow...no one will understand the most wonderful time that i had that night...i literally woke up the next day and remember my stomach hurting so bad from laughing all night long. i think miss liz woke up with absolutely no voice...hehehe.

anyhow, this is for you my dear gul, isabelle, and liz. i miss you all so very very much...be patient in the very beginning since the screen will be black and playing music from that night. i think we were on the stage at that point...not yet falling off it!

this video has been removed to protect the character of those involved.

so happy togetheeeeeeeeeeeeeeer...la la la la lalalala la la la tralala laaaaaaaaaaaa

2006-06-11T00:39:00.000-04:00

logical inter-connections

2006-05-16T16:34:00.000-04:00

I put dreams before life to such an extent that I manage in my verbal intercourse ( I have no other) to continue dreaming, and to continue, by means of the opinions and sentiments of others, to have, in the fluid line of individuality, an amorphous life.

Other people are channels or furrows through which the waters of the sea flow, but only as those people please. The curved course of their tendencies is marked by the flashes of the sun in the water in a way that is much more real than the dryness of those people could do it.

My rapid analyses may make me seem like a parasite in my relations with other people, but what actually happens is that I oblige them to be the parasites of my last emotion. I take possession of the shell of their individuality. I copy their footsteps in the clay of my soul, but I step down harder than they and by incorporating those footsteps into my consciousness, I have taken their steps and walked their ways for them.

Generally, out of my habit of duplicating myself and carrying out two different mental tasks at the same time, I – even as I adapt myself excessively and lucidly to their feelings – am analyzing within myself their unknown moods, making a purely objective analysis of what they are and what they think. Thus, in dreams and without giving up my uninterrupted daydreaming, I proceed, not only living the refined essence of their (at times) dead emotions, but understanding and classifying the logical inter-connections among the various forces in their spirit, which at times exist in a natural state within their souls.

And while all this is going on, nothing of their physical features, their way of dressing, or their gestures escapes me. At the same time, I live their dreams, the soul of their instincts, as well as their bodies and their attitudes. In a grand, unified dispersion, I situate myself within them, I cultivate them, and during every moment of the conversation I am a multitude of beings, conscious and unconscious, analyzed and analytic, all deployed as if on an open fan.

-Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet

present state of soul

2006-05-16T16:27:00.000-04:00

Present state of soul,
originally uploaded by Gabo Gabo.

almost 9am & coming back on the train

2006-05-10T09:43:00.000-04:00

There’re no words to say
No words to convey
This feeling inside I have for you
Deep in my heart
Save from the guards
Of intellect and reason
Leaving me at a loss
For words to express my feelings
Deep in my heart

Look at me losing control
Thinking I had a hold
But with feelings this strong
I’m no longer the master
Of my emotions

"for you" by tracy chapman

the pilgrimage that i am on

2006-05-04T10:39:00.000-04:00

Pilgrimage,

originally uploaded by orkboi.

-thoughts of thesis clutter my head like butterflies in a net
-thoughts of moving to a new city and the horrible new york walk-up apartment + me having tons of books
-thoughts of another moving closer to me and how happy/anxious that makes my heart
-thoughts of two worlds colliding into one and me being left all together holding nothing but my heart
-thoughts of looking for a job excite me, yet i hate it, you know...the whole process of resume/portfolio/waiting/interviews/choosing...i wish someone would just call me tomorrow and say be here monday morning at such and such time
-thoughts of summer in the air accompanied with desires to go and sit on the grass, soak in the sun, and just be
-thoughts of my dear gul and the wonderful grateful dead photo remind me of love and friendship and how this is all we need in this world to be happy...who needs a master's or phD? i shouldn't tell myself that till next tuesday.

ok back to my pilgrimage or sorts...time tos tart the day and design away. i want my project to be beautiful. right now i am worried because my drawings are not beautiful. they are all auto-cad-ed up and not so pretty. i'm having a hard time trying to decide since this is not my thesis defense presentation, but merely a final progress review for the semester, how do i continue working without showing my normal "finished" drawings. from now until tuesday, i feel that my project needs a few layers of depth added, in meaning and in drawing...i hope that design approval will come easier than at midterms...if not, i'm about ready to tear my eyes out.

my sleep pose

2006-05-03T11:36:00.000-04:00

Find your own pose!

Toboggan Traits and Tendencies	Tobogganeers are always one step in front of their peers; they're first to buy a house, first to microdermabrate, first to spend more than a thousand dollars on a rug. Yet in their rush to get ahead of the curve, Toboggan couples sometimes find themselves racing in two entirely different directions. If they don't check in frequently to make sure they're both on the same track, they can grow impressively far apart, and it can take a great deal of painful maneuvering and many late-night talks before they reconnect once again.
Comfort Zone	Toboggan is a Sun Sleeper pose. Other Sun poses a Tobogganeer might enjoy include Big C Little c, Classic Spoons, and The Heimlich.
A Note About Feeding	Tobogganeers have two modes: fed and calm, and unfed and frantic. To prevent bickering and other erratic behaviors, always keep the pantry and glove box well stocked with a supply of crackers and spreadables.

she said, "things that go smoosh."

2006-04-23T10:04:00.000-04:00

bye.,

originally uploaded by okta'lonli.

10:03 in the a.m. waking up in my own bed never felt so good for some reason. the blankets seemed to conform just perfectly to my body today. i was woken last night by a phone call at 5: 25 a.m. which put a smile on my face. i know i've been distant lately and there has been much on my mind. my brain doesn't seem to have enough room lately for all that it wants to think about. school seems to be a minor factor in it all and the only steady thing that remains as a constant.

i've been trying to purge my room of useless papers. scanning things that i can throw away but would like to have some sort of digital memory of. old cards, portraits of me drawn by others, notes from long ages ago...all these things seem unnecessary baggage when thinking of moving to new york. i feel as though i am throwing away little pieces of my life, the weight and heaviness, freeing myself for a new life ahead. am i finally closing the doors to my past? do i realize that once i leave here, there will be no turning back?

words and hand-written notes are the things which i treasure. they seem to have so much more weight and impact than an email. finding an old file of an instant message doesn't seem to hold the same impression that i feel when i stumbled on the notes i've left my mother, cards from my brother, letters from a past love that say absolutely nothing (in fact, it is just a blank envelope, with a few sheets of blank white papers insde...one of my most treasured items). these gifts of writing and the thought put into them cost so much more than the rising postage stamps on their envelopes. whomever complains that mail is getting expensive doesn't realize the value of the messages and prices of love that are contained within.

last week, maybe the week before, he wrote me the first letter ever. i could imagine the way he hold his pen as he wrote, the look of careful thought as the pen found its way to the page. it is these imaginations that bring a peace to my heart.

i know that i haven't written for a long time. i often tell people, "i write when i am happy." well, i suppose this statement remains to be true. although not sad, i feel apprehension...anxiety...wondering...a tension of sorts inside me that has been growing. i do not know how to explain...maybe it is better if i just work. in that way, time will pass, and the distance will lessen, as it is time that will lessen the distance.

la-la-la-land

2006-04-17T16:57:00.000-04:00

*singing to herself*

where, oh-where has little one gone?????
where, oh-where can she beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee????

*the sound of her humming voice fades into the distant background*

what flavour am i??

2006-04-07T17:45:00.000-04:00

"the big lebowski" for future reference

2006-04-05T02:57:00.000-04:00

Walter Sobchak: Am I wrong?
The Dude: No you're not wrong.
Walter Sobchak: Am I wrong?
The Dude: You're not wrong Walter. You're just an asshole.
Walter Sobchak: All right then.

focus...

2006-04-04T14:07:00.000-04:00

the listening selection for today.

pontificating cheap

2006-04-04T13:57:00.000-04:00

a friend of mine is putting togeter a little 4"x4" 8 page publication and in his words, "since i'm the wordy, phD wanna-be, smart one" get to contribute a little piece of thought (eh-hem, "the meat"). here's a copy of my little rambling dribble:

cheap words

Cheap. Cheap seats. Cheap talk. Cheap thrills. Cheap, cheap, cheap. It is the sound a baby chick makes. It is what we label something when it falls apart. It is the word that makes a student's ears jump for joy. But why does the word cheap persist in having such negative connotation? Wouldn't one value a sloppy bundle of handpicked meadow flower randomness over store bought, expensively wrought red, red roses? Isn't a little love note written on a sliver of a paper corner more treasured than a computer typed, laser printed copy that can be recreated over and over by the mere push of a button?

Take these notions in hand for a moment and cross the boundaries into the realm of architecture. Cheap means budget conscious. It connotes other ideas of pre-fab and sustainability. Images of small habitable box houses come to mind. But it also means that after ten years stucco is falling off the side of walls, the roofs are beginning to leak, floorboards starting to creak. It means imitation and disintegration. At what point did the words quality and cheap become so far removed from one another? How can that discrepancy be reconciled?

Realizing the importance words have in the telling of our narratives is essential. The drawings we create, the buildings we make, the ideas we realize, it all begins with words. "Language is not merely a means of expression and communication; it is an instrument of experiencing, thinking, and feeling ... Our ideas and experiences are not independent of language; they are all integral parts of the same pattern, the warp and woof of the same texture. We do not first have thoughts, ideas, feelings, and then put them into a verbal framework. We think in words, by means of words. Language and experience are inextricably interwoven, and the awareness of one awakens the other." [1]

Cheapness and beauty must somehow find themselves back in the same sentence. [2]
_______________________

[1] William Chomsky, dad to Noam Chomsky (creator of generative grammar)…ooooo….aaaaahhh.
[2] If Boy George could do it in 1995 with his album Cheapness & Beauty, so can you!

oh my! oh my!

2006-04-04T13:45:00.000-04:00

i have to get a fatboy! it's almost quite as wonderful, if not more, than a giant inflatable yellow sphere! i'm imagining naptimes galore and lazy, long afternoons of lounging, listening to wfmu...*sigh*

2006-04-04T01:05:00.000-04:00

i've returned from the dead really...it's just taking me a little while to catch up.

i'm one of those boxes, i am, i am!

2006-03-23T20:07:00.000-05:00

songs that keep repeating on the playlist today for no particular reason other than i like 'em & it's been a productive day...

2006-03-22T21:27:00.000-05:00

note to self, when i need to get things done, play the following:
get in the car, hail social
contratempo, lali puna
life turned upside down, badly drwan boy
the love that i crave, the blow
smell memory, mum
f*ck this sh*t, belle & sebastian
black turtleneck, solvent
soul meets body, death cab for cutie
advisory committee, mirah
eyes, rogue wave
where i love you, the blow
ageless beauty, stars
take me out, franz ferdinand
intertiatic esp, the mars volta
no cities left, the dears
aptitude, novillero
imaginary ordinary, architecture in helsinki
i love you (la la la), do make say think
argument, fugazi
rippin kittin, miss kittin
hate to say i told you so, the hives
he lay in the reins, calexicao/iron&wine
dare, gorillaz
une annee sans lumiere, the arcade fire
rae, autechre
je ne t'aime plus, manu chao
retour a vega, the stills
the observer, the flaming lips
this is not a love song, nouvelle vague
rocket ride, felix da housecat
dirty trip, air
impossible, les acrobates
pannonica, thelonius monk
man i used to be, k-os
killing all the flies, mogwai
publish my love, rogue wave
drunken tune, cinematic orchestra
a dreamy day of dreaming of you, of montreal
faking the books, lali puna
the step, !!!

he gave me something beautiful to smile about today...

2006-03-22T15:39:00.000-05:00

Geological Investigation of the Alluvial Valley of the Lower Mississippi River,
originally uploaded by Pruned.

i was saving this post to revise/add more to the list...but i wanted to share the commercial and i am oh-so-very-tired...so here it is unfinished

2006-03-22T02:29:00.000-05:00

i saw this commercial last night for the very first time and it made me smile so big, and my heart melt so soft. sometimes, coincidences are just too great. my fascination with kaleidoscopes and favourite songs all together into one...*sigh*...i couldn't help but become overwhelmed with this great sense of missing. mind over matter, as one of my closest friends says. it seems that mind over matter might very well be the only thing that is going to keep me going these next couple of months. i just want to sleep and sleep. motivation is a little hard to come by recently. with each day that passes, i feel much more encouraged to be back in the real world and out of this fairy tale world of school that is now trying to trap me forever. i feel more and more ready for real life to come and sweep me away.

i look back to where i was two years ago (before starting grad school) and i see a very different person. i had no real concept or idea whatsoever that i would:

still be in grad school (almost 2 years later)
live in montreal for almost 6 months
finally do the europe trip i had planned years ago (tho by myself which wasn't planned)
get friends that are girls, really really good girls
officially fall in love for the second time in my life
actually turn 28
realize and accept that every interaction leaves traces (that's it, nothing more, nothing less)
be happy...genuinely happy
become confident in me

perfect for today...thesis aftermath sets in

2006-03-16T17:44:00.000-05:00

Washington Capitol,
originally uploaded by epmd.

near-sighted

2006-03-13T01:51:00.000-05:00

"What I cannot love, I overlook. Is that real friendship?" -Anais Nin

daddy took his meds last night.

2006-03-11T13:37:00.000-05:00

thank you for yelling at me last night...i needed that.
i love you.

oh! oh! oh!

2006-03-10T14:15:00.000-05:00

last year we were in guernica,
originally uploaded by prettyjjbean.

happy song for the day is felix da housecat's "rocket ride"!
dance party in studio today! draw! draw! dance! dance!

mr.bill-the-most-awesome-step-brudder-of-a-boss-evah-eva-!

2006-03-10T13:41:00.000-05:00

ok, aside from just being super-duper-kewl, and having awesome musik on his myspace page, he sends me reminders like this:

BALLET MECHANIQUE

George Antheil's (the self proclaimed "bad boy of music"- teeheehee!) 1925 masterwork, BALLET MECHANIQUE, which was never heard in its original version (for 10 percussionists, two pianists, three airplane propellers, electric bells, siren, and 16 player pianos) until 75 years after its composition, will be presented on the mezzanine of the National Gallery of Art's East Wing every day for over two weeks, starting on March 12. Performing it will be 16 computer-controlled player grand pianos and an orchestra played entirely by robots. This means it will be the fastest, most maniacal, and--thanks to the cavernous acoustics of the giant building--the loudest Ballet mécanique ever performed.

In conjunction with a huge exhibit on Dadaist art, which runs from now through May, the Music department of the National Gallery has commissioned a Ballet mécanique installation, which will be on display and performing from March 12 through March 29. The all-mechanical orchestra will be located on the mezzanine, next to the entrance to the Dada exhibit hall. At 1:00 pm (every day) and 4:00 pm (weekdays only), the orchestra will roar into action and play a 10-minute version of the piece.

In addition, the film Ballet mécanique by Fernand Léger and Dudley Murphy will be shown (without sound) continuously as part of the Dada exhibit.

Please come and experience the latest 21st-century incarnation of this long-forgotten 20-century masterpiece. For more information on the Ballet mécanique, visit http://antheil.org. To see the work of LEMUR, visit http://lemurbots.org. And for the National Gallery, visit http://www.nga.gov.

lullaby & good-nite, sing me to sleep

2006-03-10T02:44:00.000-05:00

When you’re away
And I’m asleep
Be the one I know
Next to me
When you’re alone
And I am gone
Believe in the things
that are here to come
Everywhere and allover
On top and under my skin
I felt something like infinity
With you near by

"Everywhere & Allover" by Lali Puna

time to hang up my stripes...

2006-03-10T01:30:00.000-05:00

the new arrival from the library for me - "art & artifact: the museum as medium",
originally uploaded by prettyjjbean.

a very productive day indeed:

- 2 drawings accomplished (not fully finished, but substantially enough to keep me rolling for the next 4) still need to find materials to use, make an ikea run for the photo frames to be used in my "great wall of minute proportion" + take the appropriate photos, and a home depot run is in the works too (keep your eyes open for purple electrical tape)...
- a good morning chat with my liz
- had an even earlier, or late-late-night chat with him that made me smile all day
- reminiscing old memories and sharing hopes for my b.g.
- sipped my coffee and watched a movie
- catching up time with mom & dad
- checking up on brother session
- paperwork for degree application + figuring out the just-in-case-i-don't-graduate-in-may-&-have-to-defend-in-august details/potential costs, even talked it out with dad-doo
- secret preparations finally completed and ready to be mailed tomorrow
- morning spring-like walks in the sun with the birds chirping above me
- another successful day of not eating out (it's been nearly two weeks now! well, with the exception of one chipotle...oops)
- paid bills, thanks to a little birdie reminding me
- happiness was today...i was more carefree than i have been for quite some time, a great accomplishment. i give some, if not most, credit to the striped tights and shoes...if my mother could only see me, i have sinking feeling i would be hearing, "you look just like when you were 5...only instead of pink and purple, you've grown up into orange and yellow!" *little girl smile*
- night time reading awaits me ..."the little house: an architectural seduction"...perfect for goodnite dreaming *wink*

i told you today was gonna be a good day!

she said, he said

2006-03-09T12:05:00.000-05:00

beanie-bean & her stripes,
originally uploaded by prettyjjbean.

conversations from yesterday:

she said, "yeah, beer, booze and weed...plus movies. mmmmm....."

he said, "alcohol is my medicine."

today is going to be a good day...i can feel it. it's noon already and i barely just woke up. but i am energetic (perhaps from our conversation last night??) and ready for my "morning" coffee. i hear birds outside and the recycle truck going by. for the first time in a long time now, i feel complete and as if i have my whole mind back...thus the stripe wearing for today! woo-hoo!

sweet love notes in my inbox

2006-03-08T15:55:00.000-05:00

it's love that makes the world go 'round & 'round,
originally uploaded by prettyjjbean.

yep, your last email was in my Spam folder, not sure why, I guess as I said yesterday because of the a** word:) so...thank you also for calling me and updating me on the charger status that is very sweet of you:)

I was listening 5 min. ago to Dave Matthews "Crash" and I realized that I got that CD with this song when I started working at Shinberg. Levinas about 2-1/2 years ago and I was thinking...WOW...it's been already more than 2-1/2 years since I know Jenn:)....I never would have guessed that this relationship will continue like this. In fact I remember when Milton first talked about you that "one of his workers lives in Alexandria and I might ask you for a commuting advice" since I lived in Alexandria at that point too:) I imagined you to be big:) with glasses (still ) extremely grown up looking, married with kid's and in constant rush. But then I met you and you were nothing like what I had made you up to be. In walked this tiny little person hiding behind square glasses, who was very grounded, had cute sweaters and skirts and introduced me to my very first Chipotle experiences, and that has pretty much been true for things that followed...Jenn showing me many first things in my life:)....

Actually if I think of our relationship in terms of a road traveled you are for me like a light pole by the side of the road. Without one it is very hard to see in the dark and stay safe on the chosen course. You have illuminated my way in DC for the past 2-1/2 years...(making sure I don't run off the road in the dark) shining sometimes brighter, sometimes dimmer, illuminating the hot spots to entertain, showing the wisdom that I needed at difficult times and receding when I needed to do my own thinking, but always constantly being there. So that's what I was thinking about today and just thought I'd share with you since it feels like a mile stone is approaching - you soon graduating and who knows in what direction our roads will turn. I hope both of our continued paths will be good and gratifying.

Thank you for your friendship for these past 2-1/2 years:) Love, BG

sunsets over the lietzensee in berlin

2006-03-08T01:58:00.000-05:00

sunsets over the lietzensee in berlin,
originally uploaded by prettyjjbean.

i've been counting the days. 47. forty-seven is a long time to be counting days. to discover the number of what-if's and why-me's that occur in that time period one must mutiply the number of days counted x a factor of one thousand. so let's see...47 days counted x 1000 = 47,000 what-if's & why-me's. 47,000. even now, that number seems miniscule in comparison to the clutter and noise that has been filling my head.

*sigh*

but the relief from such pains and worry is finally over. perhaps now i can proceed forward again with a clear mind, now that i can finally stop counting. how torturous this waiting can be. like a stand-off between me and the calender. i stare at it, asking the why's, how's, where's, when's, probing mr. calender for an answer. in return, all i get is a blank stare, days shown as an empty box.

those days on the calender which have already past, now are like boxes which seem to have opened up and spilled their contents all over the street...like a garbage truck whose bed has rusted thru and a trail of trash lingers for moments before the wind can sweep it away. the past contains work, sweat, toil, sacrifice, determination...i have filled up those days past with all these words.

the future dates on the calender, once were boxes waiting to be filled. with plans and dreams, hope and possibility, love and sincerity, with whatever it was that i chose for myself. once the counting of days began, suddenly the future was filled to the brim. but there was no room in this new calender for hopes and dreams, no room for plans. but rather a much different kind of toil and sacrifice than i previously filled the calender with.

anyhow.

the days of counting are over. 47. forty-seven days of long-awaited torture. the what-if's and why-me's have finally subsided. the horrible thoughts of what i am possibly capable of are gone. there were even voices from the past that lingered in my ear, whispering taboo words and making the battle within myself even greater. but now, it is finished. the calender can return to normal, where the past is filled and the future is empty.

hopes and dreams can once again abound.

"but when i was a alone i could be afraid. why should i pretend that those nights had never been, when in fear of death i sat up, clinging to the fact that sitting at least was still something alive: that the dead did not sit. this always happened in one of those chance rooms which promptly left me in the lurch when things went badly with me, as if they feared to be cross-examined and become involved in my troubles. there i sat, probably looking so dreadful that nothin had the courage to stand by me; not even the candle, which i had just done the service of lighting it, would have anything to do with me. it burned away there by itsellf, as in an empty room. my last hope then was always the window. i imagined that outside there, there still might be something that belonged to me, even now, even in this sudden poverty of dying. but scarcely had i looked thither when i wished the window had been barricaded, blocked up, like the wall. for now i knew that things were going on out there in the same indifferent way, that out there, too, there was nothing but my loneliness. the loneliness i had brought upon myself and to the greatness of which my heart no longer stood in any sort of proportion. people came to my mind whom i had once left, and i did not understand how one could forsake people. my God, my God, if any such nights await me in the future, leave me at least one of those thoughts that i have sometimes been able to pursue! it is not unreasonable, this that i ask; for i know that they were born of my very fear, because my fear was so great. when i was a boy, they struck me in the face and told me i was a coward. that was because i was still bad at being afraid. since then, however, i have learned to be afraid with real fear, fear that increases only when the force that engenders it increases. we have no idea of this force, except in our fear. for it is so untterly inconceivable, so totally opposed to us, that our brain disintegrates at the point where we strain ourselves to think it. and yet, for some time now i have believed that it is our own force, all our own force that is still too great for us. it is true we do not know it; but is it not just that which is most our own of which we know the least? sometimes i reflect on how heaven came to be and death: though our having distanced what is most precious to us, because there was still so much else to do beforehand and because it was not secure with us busy people. now times have elapsed over this, and we have become accustomed to lesser things. we no longer recognize that which is our own and are terrified byt its extreme greatness. may that not be?" -rainer maria rilke, "the notebooks of malte laurids brigge"

on hiatus

2006-03-06T12:57:00.000-05:00

"Do you hear the snow against the windowpanes, Kitty? How nice and soft it sounds! Just as if some one was kissing the window all over outside, I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, "Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.' And when they wake up in the summer, Kitty, they dress themselves all in green, and dance about -- whenever the wind blows -- oh, that's very pretty!" cried Alice, dropping the ball of worsted to clap her hands. "And I do so wish it was true! I'm sure the woods look sleepy in the autumn, when the leaves are getting brown.

"Now, if you'll only attend, Kitty, and not talk so much, I'll tell you all my ideas about Looking-glass House. First, there's the room you can see through the glass -- that's just the same as our drawing-room, only the things go the other way. I can see all of it when I get upon a chair -- all but the bit just behind the fireplace. Oh! I do so wish I could see that bit! I want so much to know whether they've a fire in the winter: you never can tell, you' know, unless our fire smokes, and then smoke comes up in that room too -- but that may be only pretence, just to make it look as if they had a fire. Well then, the books are something like our books, only the words go the wrong way; I know that, because I've held up one of our books to the glass, and then they hold up one in the other room.

"How would you like to live in Looking-glass House, Kitty? I wonder if they'd give you milk, there? Perhaps Looking-glass milk isn't good to drink -- but oh, Kitty! now we come to the passage. You can just see a little peep of the passage in Looking-glass House, if you leave the door of our passage as far as you can see, only you know it may be quite different on beyond. Oh, Kitty! how nice it would be if we could only get through into Looking-glass House! I'm sure it's got, oh! such beautiful things in it! Let's pretend there's a way of getting through into it somehow, Kitty. Let's pretend the glass has got soft like gauze, so that we can get through. Why, it's turning into a sort of mist now, I declare! It'll be easy enough to get through -- -" She was up on the chimney-piece while she said this, though she hardly knew how she had got there. And certainly the glass was beginning to melt away, just like a bright silvery mist.

In another moment Alice was through the glass, and had jumped lightly down into the Looking-glass room. The very first thing she did was to look whether there was a fire in the fireplace, and she was quite pleased to find that there was a real one and lazing away as brightly as the one she had left behind. "So I shall be as warm here as I was in the old room," thought Alice: "warmer, in fact, because there'll be no one here to scold me away from the fire. Oh, what fun it'll be, when they see me through the glass in here, and can't get at me!"

Then she began looking about, and noticed that what could be seen from the old room was quite common and uninteresting, but that all the rest was as different as possible. For instance, the pictures on the wall next the fire seemed to be all alive, and the very clock on the chimney-piece (you know you can only see the back of it in the Looking-glass) had got the face of a little old man, and grinned at her.

-Lewis Carroll, "Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There"

must remember to go to this

2006-03-06T12:27:00.000-05:00

Construcciones: Digital Photographic Prints by Pepe Coronado
Second Light: An Installation by Glenn Shrum
Inklight: Works from MICA Printmaking & Environmental Design students
Dates: March 14 - April 28
Reception: March 23 from 6:30 - 8:30 pm
Gallery Talk: March 23 at 7:00 pm
Location: Pyramid Atlantic Art Center
8230 Georgia Avenue, Silver Spring, MD 20910

stress as defined by dictionary.com>> > >

2006-03-06T01:46:00.000-05:00

Main Entry: ¹stress

Pronunciation: 'stres
Function: noun

1 a : a force exerted when one body or body part presses on, pulls on, pushes against, or tends to compress or twist another body or body part; especially : the intensity of this mutual force commonly expressed in pounds per square inch b : the deformation caused in a body by such a force
2 a : a physical, chemical, or emotional factor that causes bodily or mental tension and may be a factor in disease causation b : a state of bodily or mental tension resulting from factors that tend to alter an existent equilibrium
3 : the force exerted between teeth of the upper and lower jaws during mastication

note to self: there is no hint or clue as to a solution or cure to this problem...must find solution...quickly...

the need to buy list...

2006-03-03T03:04:00.000-05:00

-purple electrical tape (for kaleidoscope books)
-green electrical tape (to finish the tape drawing...who would've thought the mall was 1.1 miles too long)
-one sheet plexiglass 12"x24" (to replace the one aatif says he'll replace but probably won't)
-one new moleskine sketchbook (almost time to retire this one and put it out of its misery)
-fresnel lens (one or more??? think about it.)
-mirrors (size? shape? how many? too many unknowns)
-peepholes (ebay bidding war has commenced)
-paper (my special secret stock of watercolour off-yellow paper, which was free last year, is all gone this year...thanks to SOMEONE else spilling my secret to the entire world!...)
-chipboard...(future planning that i will need it anyhow)
-one workforce willing to do slave labor for free and can magically draw beautifully...oh wait...you can't buy these off the shelf...guess it's up to me then...crap.

when on the brink of losing sanity and sleep...

2006-03-03T03:01:00.000-05:00

repeat three times fast after me: "you too me too we too too toos!"

ready...set...go!!!!

you too me too we too too toos!
you too me too we too too toos!
you too me too we too too toos!

[my tribute to liz, my darling clementine forevermore]

listening to "ratatat" by ratatat

2006-03-02T14:42:00.000-05:00

breathe in, breathe out. how many times must i remind myself of this the last days. i have a tendency not to write when i have too much on my mind, or too much going on around me. it seems the days that i am over-abundantly happy, writing comes easy and without effort. i feel that it is becoming more and more necessary for me to purge the anxiety inside of me in order for me to maintain sanity.

i was showered yesterday with wonderful gifts of joy and stripes! striped ribbons, striped stockings, orange colours and promises of poutine, listening alberto amusements and new york notes of black and white. sigh...and another reminder of that old saying, "birds of the same feather, flock together..." this all puts a smile on my tired self.

i haven't been working as hard as i would like. i seem to be hitting one of those major stumbling blocks that might as well be as big as the hoover dam for all i know. i need to build a site model to a scale in which i can work...need to go to the actual site tomorrow morning so i can feel the scale...i am struggling with this. sigh...i've never had to deal with a site of monumental proportion. for some reason, i feel my intervention is of such minute insignificance when i place it on the whole...

i've been questioned about the transporatability and questioned how much i want to deal with the engineering mechanics of the project. ugh.

frustrating...things seem to be progressing much slower than i thought they would 3 months, even 1 month ago. i've even officially given up my weekends out.

*pout*

maybe i'm just in a bad mood because the sun disappeared again today. yesterday was amazing and i relished the sun on my face during the walk to school. today the sun hid behind it's blanket of grey. i too felt like crawling back behind that blanket...at least i would have the sun next to me to keep me warm.

belated wishes from fei...thank u!

2006-03-01T12:45:00.000-05:00