Today is one of those very quiet, solitary days. We are moving closer to Winter, and the air is silent and chilled. It's a kind of lonely weather day. I don't feel lonely, I feel a sense of solitude which I enjoy. I feel kind of like the solitary ocean woman photograph - alone but exhilarated. Perhaps not quite exhilarated - but happy and content. Fortunately I happen to be one of those people who enjoy my own company. In fact I often prefer to be alone than with people.
Tomorrow is a holiday over here....yay!!! I haven't decided what to do yet, I 'll see what I feel like when I wake up....and that's what I like best, no plans to have to stick to.
(Picture credits: I pray for water collage, journal page, heart and flower doodles by me; Candles: via Poignant; Solitary ocean woman & Embracing couple: via We heart it; Tea glasses by Petra Tinsley; Lekeliene via Lace & Tea)
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
No answers, only questions
I spent the whole day today doing a writing assignment that should have taken me max about 5 hours. You know how it is when you just can't seem to think and every word and idea is like squeezing blood from a stone! And happy day -I discovered that I made a mistake with my photography assignment - so I have to redo the whole thing. It's not that difficult fortunately - it involves setting up three different still lifes, and photographing them at night under different lighting conditions, we have to take 6 photo's of each still life using different camera settings. My next class is tomorrow, so guess what I'll be doing later tonight. So right now, I'm giving myself some leisure time on the computer *yes* and then I'll have some supper and watch some mindless TV, and then redo my photography assignment. Procrastination rocks!!!
(Picture credits: We heart it, Beautefragile; ursofuckinspecial; Tumblrist; pics 4 & 5: Carl Bengtsson via Ru Photo)
(Picture credits: We heart it, Beautefragile; ursofuckinspecial; Tumblrist; pics 4 & 5: Carl Bengtsson via Ru Photo)
Labels:
photography
Friday, April 24, 2009
This is not an elegy...
I don't usually do two posts in one day, but I stumbled across a most beautiful poem via Poetry 365 called This is not an Elegy by Catherine Pierce. It somehow reached right into my soul, and inspired me.....and before I knew it, I was blogging away.....I remember being sixteen, all the heartache, and insecurity, the crushes never returned, the yearning for love.....
At sixteen, I was illegal and brilliant,
my fingernails chewed to half-moons.
I took off my clothes in a late March
field. I had secret car wrecks,
secret hysteria. I opened my mouth
to swallow stars.
In backseats
I learned the alchemy of guilt, lust,
and distance. I was unformed and total.
I swore like a sailor. But slowly the cops
stopped coming around. The heat lifted
its palms. The radio lost some teeth.
Now I see the landscape behind me
as through a Claude glass—
tinted deeper, framed just so, bits
of gilt edging the best parts.
I see my unlined face, a thousand
film stars behind the eyes. I was
every murderess, every whip-
thin alcoholic, every heroine
with the silver tongue. Always young
Paul Newman’s best girl. Always
a lightning sky behind each kiss.
Some days I watch myself
in the third person, speak to her
in the second. I say: I will
meet you in sleep.
I will know you
by your stillness and your shaking.
By your second-hand gown.
By your bruises left by mouths
since forgotten.
This is not
an elegy because I cannot bear
for it to be. It is only a tree branch
against the window. It is only a cherry
tomato slowly reddening in the garden.
I will put it in my mouth. It will
be sweet, and you will swallow.
(Picture credits: all pics via Grungegypsy)
At sixteen, I was illegal and brilliant,
my fingernails chewed to half-moons.
I took off my clothes in a late March
field. I had secret car wrecks,
secret hysteria. I opened my mouth
to swallow stars.
In backseats
I learned the alchemy of guilt, lust,
and distance. I was unformed and total.
I swore like a sailor. But slowly the cops
stopped coming around. The heat lifted
its palms. The radio lost some teeth.
Now I see the landscape behind me
as through a Claude glass—
tinted deeper, framed just so, bits
of gilt edging the best parts.
I see my unlined face, a thousand
film stars behind the eyes. I was
every murderess, every whip-
thin alcoholic, every heroine
with the silver tongue. Always young
Paul Newman’s best girl. Always
a lightning sky behind each kiss.
Some days I watch myself
in the third person, speak to her
in the second. I say: I will
meet you in sleep.
I will know you
by your stillness and your shaking.
By your second-hand gown.
By your bruises left by mouths
since forgotten.
This is not
an elegy because I cannot bear
for it to be. It is only a tree branch
against the window. It is only a cherry
tomato slowly reddening in the garden.
I will put it in my mouth. It will
be sweet, and you will swallow.
(Picture credits: all pics via Grungegypsy)
Labels:
photography,
poetry
I dream of romance edged in beauty
Today I decided to do a post of dreamy interiors that I've been collecting and wanted to share. In some way, each room appeals to me - I like the simplicity, and the touches of romantic vintage, and the restful but pretty colours. Each space is a place I could dream in and be at be peace, and each room is a reflection of the owners personality - to me, these are some of the important elements of the dream house I have in my mind. What would your dream house be like, and where would it be?
Have a happy weekend dear friends.
(Picture credits: Firsthome; Dwellings & Decor; Nom-nom-nom; Sweet Home Style)
Have a happy weekend dear friends.
(Picture credits: Firsthome; Dwellings & Decor; Nom-nom-nom; Sweet Home Style)
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