Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. This time last year I went on some single gal's rant about my disdain for the sugar coated Hallmark event. I mourned the loss of the meaning from which this holiday stemmed. Yet this year there I was in a chic paper store, selecting the perfectly romantic, witty, and humorous valentine for my Valentine.
Maybe it's because I've never really had a Valentine before. Or maybe it's because I've never been in love like this before, but here I am...wrapping things up in red curly ribbon and making plans for dinner. And feeling like a giddy adolescent because this year on Valentine's Day I have a person who will hold my hand and open my door and sit and listen as I ramble on about the day's events.
I still believe this holiday is an over commercialized, consumerist, Hallmark scheme. To sell red pieces of paper and heart shaped chocolates and long stemmed roses. But then I think, so what's wrong with that? What's wrong with making a fuss in the name of love? What's wrong with grand gestures and corny poetry? I guess it just doesn't seem so terrible anymore.
love is more thicker than forget
By E. E. Cummings
love is more thicker than forget
more thinner than recall
more seldom than a wave is wet
more frequent than to fail
it is more mad and moonly
and less it shall unbe
than all the sea which only
is deeper than the sea
love is less always than to win
less never than alive
less bigger than the least begin
less littler than forgive
it is most sane and sunly
and more it cannot die
than all the sky which only
is higher than the sky
Monday, February 13, 2012
Friday, January 27, 2012
Ribbons
Ingrid Michealson has done it yet again. She's recently released the album Human Again only to make me fall that much further in love with her. This track was a quick favorite; thought I would share. Listen and enjoy!
Happy Friday!
Happy Friday!
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Book Beauty
If you're a book lover, you must take a peek at this site: Bookshelf Porn.
Some beautiful images of libraries, bookshelves, and thoughts of literary wonder. This is such a lovely photo blog for those who are into books and/or architecture in any capacity.
Check it out!
http://bookshelfporn.com
And from it, I love this quote:
Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.
-"A Girl You Should Date" via @brainpicker
Some beautiful images of libraries, bookshelves, and thoughts of literary wonder. This is such a lovely photo blog for those who are into books and/or architecture in any capacity.
Check it out!
http://bookshelfporn.com
And from it, I love this quote:
Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.
-"A Girl You Should Date" via @brainpicker
Saturday, December 24, 2011
the gold trimmed box
just there rests a broken mason jar of stones
the sort of stones you collect as they’ve washed up on the shore of a beloved beach in the pacific northwest.
the sort of stones you’ve kept in a jar on your bedside dresser since childhood (as if in some attempt to hold onto your innocence- a time capsule of rock and tide)
until one day a rush of force and the unwanted tilt of life sends them flying to the floor
you watch as glass becomes fragments around you.
and just there is a ukulele which hasn’t seen the light outside its case for nearly two months, though in your mind you play him daily
though others may not pay admission, the concerts are nightly,
the music incandescent
around the corner sits an old black and white photo of the people you miss; whose smiles sing the virulent melody of inevitability
yet they are beautiful.
juxtaposed against a house made of gingerbread nestled amongst a forest of portraits.
snapshots of a life she would never want to discount.
but just there under the desk where she wrote as a little girl, a simple brown box fixes itself.
Plain and ordinary on the surface, this box perhaps contains every decent memory she’s retained
of the man with chestnut eyes and architect hands.
a boyish charm and a grownup’s discipline.
The gruff of a Mr. Darcy.
any physical piece of his retrospect lies there, in the four walls of paper vessel, taking respite on the robin’s egg floor of an attic protecting her most animate heart.
while she, perched on the mattress, fills that gold trimmed box with letters.
(a time capsule of rock and tide)
the sort of stones you collect as they’ve washed up on the shore of a beloved beach in the pacific northwest.
the sort of stones you’ve kept in a jar on your bedside dresser since childhood (as if in some attempt to hold onto your innocence- a time capsule of rock and tide)
until one day a rush of force and the unwanted tilt of life sends them flying to the floor
you watch as glass becomes fragments around you.
and just there is a ukulele which hasn’t seen the light outside its case for nearly two months, though in your mind you play him daily
though others may not pay admission, the concerts are nightly,
the music incandescent
around the corner sits an old black and white photo of the people you miss; whose smiles sing the virulent melody of inevitability
yet they are beautiful.
juxtaposed against a house made of gingerbread nestled amongst a forest of portraits.
snapshots of a life she would never want to discount.
but just there under the desk where she wrote as a little girl, a simple brown box fixes itself.
Plain and ordinary on the surface, this box perhaps contains every decent memory she’s retained
of the man with chestnut eyes and architect hands.
a boyish charm and a grownup’s discipline.
The gruff of a Mr. Darcy.
any physical piece of his retrospect lies there, in the four walls of paper vessel, taking respite on the robin’s egg floor of an attic protecting her most animate heart.
while she, perched on the mattress, fills that gold trimmed box with letters.
(a time capsule of rock and tide)
Monday, November 14, 2011
moonbeams kiss the sea
Ever since I was little I’ve believed in fairy tales and romance and magic. I’ve disappeared into worlds of glass slippers, horse drawn carriages, and poetic declarations of affection delivered by men who were once too proud to speak. These fictional places have brought me comfort, given me hope, and taught me to believe in the impossible. And the impractical. And the unbelievable. They’ve made me an eternal optimist, one who perpetually wears rose colored glasses, and the kind of woman who, most days, still feels like that little girl.
I’d come to believe that I’d been ruined by the likes of Jane Austen, Hemingway, and E.E. Cummings. I’d come to believe that I’d created an unattainable ideal for love- that no man would ever have a chance of being the prince, the white knight, the Mr. Darcy-like dream I thought I needed to be happy.
And then you showed up.
You came into my life like a whirlwind, like a living, breathing, Shakespearean sonnet. I remember quoting Love’s Philosophy by Percy Bysshe Shelley in my mind on one of our first dates. That night we went bowling; do you remember? And in a moment, riding in your car, listening to Harry Potter, Shelley’s words hit me like flash:
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea;--
What are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me?
And I just knew that there was no one else I wanted to be kissing, let alone falling in love with.
I’d come to believe that I’d been ruined by the likes of Jane Austen, Hemingway, and E.E. Cummings. I’d come to believe that I’d created an unattainable ideal for love- that no man would ever have a chance of being the prince, the white knight, the Mr. Darcy-like dream I thought I needed to be happy.
And then you showed up.
You came into my life like a whirlwind, like a living, breathing, Shakespearean sonnet. I remember quoting Love’s Philosophy by Percy Bysshe Shelley in my mind on one of our first dates. That night we went bowling; do you remember? And in a moment, riding in your car, listening to Harry Potter, Shelley’s words hit me like flash:
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea;--
What are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me?
And I just knew that there was no one else I wanted to be kissing, let alone falling in love with.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Taking back Sunday.
I struggle to remember a time when Sundays weren't occupied by homework or studying, being holed up on the 6th floor of McKeldin Library reviewing anatomical structures or attempts at deciphering what Shakespeare and Bronte were trying to get across. When mornings and early afternoons weren't defined by rehearsals and matinee performances and the carpeted corners of the Clarice Smith Performing Arts Center. When days weren't consumed by working full 8 hour days and missing out on much needed additional sleep. When spare moments weren't spent buying groceries, filling the gas tank, cleaning out dresser drawers, and catching up on phone calls and e-mails. Okay, well, maybe the latter still occurs, but these days, on any given Sunday, I have the pleasure of waking up (without alarm) and tackling the delicious task of choosing how I'd like to spend the day. I am officially taking back Sundays.
For the religious, Sunday is the Sabbath, a day of rest, of worship, a day 'without acts,' or work. For the sports fanatics, Sunday is more so about football, couches, and bowls of chips. For students, it's a day for homework, projects, studying and libraries. And I suppose for the grand masses, Sundays are defined by the necessary acts we neglect throughout the week: yard work, laundry, dishes, cleaning, errands, and catching up with those we miss. In my attempt to take back Sundays, I've aimed to eliminate anything that is not relaxing, pleasurable, or fun from the agenda.
Some favorite things I've been doing these Sundays?
Brunch. One of the greatest creations of life. I'll eat banana pancakes with cinnamon butter any Sunday, thank you. And if you're looking for a lovely breakfast spot, try Grump's Cafe. You won't be disappointed.
Walks. I love to walk. Especially this time of year. In Autumn, as colors change and temperatures drop, there's nothing more enjoyable than a leisurely bimble around town. I recommend strolling hand in hand with someone you love, having a 'walk and talk' with your best girlfriend, or even getting out with a sweet dog at the end of your leash. And I have to say, downtown Annapolis offers the perfect collection of sidewalks, allowing one to pop in and out of pubs, shops, and of course, local bookstores.
Sleep. I said it before and I'll say it again. Sleep has become a novelty as my work weeks stretch from 40 to 60 hours. Sunday rolls around and I let myself stay between the sheets for as long as my little heart desires. I wear cozy pajamas, fuzzy socks, and snuggle up. Let us never underestimate the power of sleep to rejuvenate, empower, and satisfy.
Vegging out. So, I'm a little out of practice here, but I'm getting better. Let's just say, some times, there's nothing nicer than curling up on the couch, perhaps with a cup of tea, a friend to cuddle with, and some Modern Family or a classic movie marathon on TV. When our minds are running a mile a minute throughout the week, sometimes it's all you can do to just engage in something mindless.
Reading. I can never get enough of devouring paperbacks, but lately I find my eyelids win the battle when I try to escape at the end of a weeknight. So I welcome Sunday with its swinging benches and backyards and lovely boyfriends who let me sit and read for as long as I like. I'm currently working on The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin. Check it out!
Enjoying a home cooked meal. I used to love Sunday night dinners with my family- my mother's expert cooking, spending quality time with loved ones, and the ritual of it all. Scott is a great cook and I have to say I've been quite lucky to enjoy some delicious dinners prepared with love. There's nothing nicer on a Sunday evening. Oh, and don't forget the wine!
So, here's to Sundays. And taking them back. Here's to giving ourselves permission to slow down, recharge, and relish in the simple things that make us oh so happy.
Looking forward to tomorrow!
Til next time,
L.
For the religious, Sunday is the Sabbath, a day of rest, of worship, a day 'without acts,' or work. For the sports fanatics, Sunday is more so about football, couches, and bowls of chips. For students, it's a day for homework, projects, studying and libraries. And I suppose for the grand masses, Sundays are defined by the necessary acts we neglect throughout the week: yard work, laundry, dishes, cleaning, errands, and catching up with those we miss. In my attempt to take back Sundays, I've aimed to eliminate anything that is not relaxing, pleasurable, or fun from the agenda.
Some favorite things I've been doing these Sundays?
Brunch. One of the greatest creations of life. I'll eat banana pancakes with cinnamon butter any Sunday, thank you. And if you're looking for a lovely breakfast spot, try Grump's Cafe. You won't be disappointed.
Walks. I love to walk. Especially this time of year. In Autumn, as colors change and temperatures drop, there's nothing more enjoyable than a leisurely bimble around town. I recommend strolling hand in hand with someone you love, having a 'walk and talk' with your best girlfriend, or even getting out with a sweet dog at the end of your leash. And I have to say, downtown Annapolis offers the perfect collection of sidewalks, allowing one to pop in and out of pubs, shops, and of course, local bookstores.
Sleep. I said it before and I'll say it again. Sleep has become a novelty as my work weeks stretch from 40 to 60 hours. Sunday rolls around and I let myself stay between the sheets for as long as my little heart desires. I wear cozy pajamas, fuzzy socks, and snuggle up. Let us never underestimate the power of sleep to rejuvenate, empower, and satisfy.
Vegging out. So, I'm a little out of practice here, but I'm getting better. Let's just say, some times, there's nothing nicer than curling up on the couch, perhaps with a cup of tea, a friend to cuddle with, and some Modern Family or a classic movie marathon on TV. When our minds are running a mile a minute throughout the week, sometimes it's all you can do to just engage in something mindless.
Reading. I can never get enough of devouring paperbacks, but lately I find my eyelids win the battle when I try to escape at the end of a weeknight. So I welcome Sunday with its swinging benches and backyards and lovely boyfriends who let me sit and read for as long as I like. I'm currently working on The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin. Check it out!
Enjoying a home cooked meal. I used to love Sunday night dinners with my family- my mother's expert cooking, spending quality time with loved ones, and the ritual of it all. Scott is a great cook and I have to say I've been quite lucky to enjoy some delicious dinners prepared with love. There's nothing nicer on a Sunday evening. Oh, and don't forget the wine!
So, here's to Sundays. And taking them back. Here's to giving ourselves permission to slow down, recharge, and relish in the simple things that make us oh so happy.
Looking forward to tomorrow!
Til next time,
L.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
the light.
It's one of those cold, rainy, early Fall evenings...ideal for updating a blog that's been far too long neglected. And yet I'm lying in bed, towel on head, procrastinating drying my hair because really, as it gets longer, so does the drying process. And in this moment, I simply can't be bothered. Although, I really should be getting ready and heading over to Scott's as he's so kindly offered (once again!) to make us dinner and will undoubtedly make some comment about the growing predictability of my tardiness. I of course got sucked into the magical land of I-Tunes and You Tube, scoping out some new tunes and relishing in old favorites. Tonight I come to you with this:
And as always, the promise of more lengthy, wordy, and legitimate posts to come. Soon.
Happy October!
And as always, the promise of more lengthy, wordy, and legitimate posts to come. Soon.
Happy October!
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