This is when I realized that for the entirety of my life, Dan Akroid and Tommy Lee Jones have been the same person to me.
11.2.13
How Many Other People Have I Done This With??
Last night my brother compared my humor to Dan Akroid. I then retorted with, "Noooo! I've never liked him! Men in Black would've been wayyy better without him!" ... Then, my husband and brother looked at each other and said, "Dan Akroid isn't in Men in Black..."
This is when I realized that for the entirety of my life, Dan Akroid and Tommy Lee Jones have been the same person to me.
This is when I realized that for the entirety of my life, Dan Akroid and Tommy Lee Jones have been the same person to me.
10.1.13
a man and wife should be equally yoko-ono-ed.
Written this Thanksgiving break :)
One year over, a new one just begun. Sounds like John Lennon’s subtle preachy Christmas song. "And what have I done?" (John Lennon asks from the grave)
Well, I got married. And though Jonathan Dinsfriend is no Yoko Ono, I feel just as obsessed about our relationship as you did with yours, Lennon. Does this mean we will pose naked for a magazine to show the world that marriage is as glamorously scandalous as drugged out free-love?
But, as we are celebrating our one year anniversary I can say one thing. Marriage is nothing like the movies. The obvious reason is because it lasts more than two hours (in our case at least). (There are probably other obvious reasons too… like the actors in movies act more married than we do). But, the funny thing I see in movies with married couples is that they talk to everyone about what goes on their lives except with each other. Jonathan and I tell everything to each other. Currently there is nothing I haven’t told him that I know of… except that I threw away his favorite torn up boxers. Jonathan knows all my fears. Currently all my fears are: driving over icy bridges, and the Nutria family that lives in the bushes on our driveway. Every morning Mama Nutria disguises herself as a dirt clod with a tail, and then when I walk in front of her, she turns into a hissing rabid-freak-animal, defending her cute dirt-clod cubs. That completes my exhaustive list of fears. When I’ve been asked if I like married-life, I’ve said
“yes!”
But, to articulate it distinctly and accurately, it is being married to Jonathan I like the most. Not married-life. Married-life with a jerk would be a real bummer, and I’m sure I’d hate married-life. But chances are, if you didn’t love life before you got married, you won’t love life after you get married. Life stays the same. Life continues with crushing loads: traffic jams, running late for work, tripping on extension cords, wearing navy blue socks with black pants, discovering that your newest gadget doesn’t do cool things unless your pay extra money. If these things ruined your day before you got married, they might still ruin your day. Of course, now when I trip over a cord, Jonathan can help me get back up, or take an iPhone video of it and YouTube it with dub step beats in the background. To tell the truth though, being married to Jonathan makes the pleasant things in life feel even more meaningful, and the stupid things feel more tolerable.
Jonathan and I took our anniversary trip last week (it was a couple weeks early). We stayed at a Bed and Breakfast called Ambrosia Gardens in Yachats (“in Yachats” is not part of the B&B title). We visited a couple places we went to on our honeymoon. It was sweet. Actually, it was sweeter. We’ve really developed something quite solid in our relationship: our humor. It’s better than anything you’ve seen. But the nice thing is, it’s only for us. Before I was married, everything I did was for other people. Even in my most hermit-like states. So much of it was to prove something to someone somewhere. Anytime something funny happened, I had to write an upgraded fictitious version of it and post it on Facebook and pretend like I didn’t care that a million people commented on it. Truly, I cannot chastise myself for having stand up comic ambitions(because my secret desire is that I’ll someday wake up with amazing funny material and delivery skill… and connections to jump start my career). Howbeit, life is copiously more relaxing when you just experience it for the sheer freaking enjoyment of it; and you laugh till your teeth fall out next to your spouse… and then he sweetly welds it back to its proper placement and you feel beautiful again.
Developing humor as a couple is something HUGE that I never expected out of marriage… didn’t even cross my mind. Most of this humor is not palatable for the rest of the world’s taste buds, but it sure brings flavor in my life. As a result, this is how I feel about marriage: It is glamorously scandalous (like Lennon and Ono). It isn’t a magic key to make your life better (but it has made my life richer). It takes guts… And it creates deep humor that thickens your body with health. That’s how it feels. That’s how it feels being married to Jonathan.
One year over, a new one just begun. Sounds like John Lennon’s subtle preachy Christmas song. "And what have I done?" (John Lennon asks from the grave)
Well, I got married. And though Jonathan Dinsfriend is no Yoko Ono, I feel just as obsessed about our relationship as you did with yours, Lennon. Does this mean we will pose naked for a magazine to show the world that marriage is as glamorously scandalous as drugged out free-love?
But, as we are celebrating our one year anniversary I can say one thing. Marriage is nothing like the movies. The obvious reason is because it lasts more than two hours (in our case at least). (There are probably other obvious reasons too… like the actors in movies act more married than we do). But, the funny thing I see in movies with married couples is that they talk to everyone about what goes on their lives except with each other. Jonathan and I tell everything to each other. Currently there is nothing I haven’t told him that I know of… except that I threw away his favorite torn up boxers. Jonathan knows all my fears. Currently all my fears are: driving over icy bridges, and the Nutria family that lives in the bushes on our driveway. Every morning Mama Nutria disguises herself as a dirt clod with a tail, and then when I walk in front of her, she turns into a hissing rabid-freak-animal, defending her cute dirt-clod cubs. That completes my exhaustive list of fears. When I’ve been asked if I like married-life, I’ve said
“yes!”
But, to articulate it distinctly and accurately, it is being married to Jonathan I like the most. Not married-life. Married-life with a jerk would be a real bummer, and I’m sure I’d hate married-life. But chances are, if you didn’t love life before you got married, you won’t love life after you get married. Life stays the same. Life continues with crushing loads: traffic jams, running late for work, tripping on extension cords, wearing navy blue socks with black pants, discovering that your newest gadget doesn’t do cool things unless your pay extra money. If these things ruined your day before you got married, they might still ruin your day. Of course, now when I trip over a cord, Jonathan can help me get back up, or take an iPhone video of it and YouTube it with dub step beats in the background. To tell the truth though, being married to Jonathan makes the pleasant things in life feel even more meaningful, and the stupid things feel more tolerable.
Jonathan and I took our anniversary trip last week (it was a couple weeks early). We stayed at a Bed and Breakfast called Ambrosia Gardens in Yachats (“in Yachats” is not part of the B&B title). We visited a couple places we went to on our honeymoon. It was sweet. Actually, it was sweeter. We’ve really developed something quite solid in our relationship: our humor. It’s better than anything you’ve seen. But the nice thing is, it’s only for us. Before I was married, everything I did was for other people. Even in my most hermit-like states. So much of it was to prove something to someone somewhere. Anytime something funny happened, I had to write an upgraded fictitious version of it and post it on Facebook and pretend like I didn’t care that a million people commented on it. Truly, I cannot chastise myself for having stand up comic ambitions(because my secret desire is that I’ll someday wake up with amazing funny material and delivery skill… and connections to jump start my career). Howbeit, life is copiously more relaxing when you just experience it for the sheer freaking enjoyment of it; and you laugh till your teeth fall out next to your spouse… and then he sweetly welds it back to its proper placement and you feel beautiful again.
Developing humor as a couple is something HUGE that I never expected out of marriage… didn’t even cross my mind. Most of this humor is not palatable for the rest of the world’s taste buds, but it sure brings flavor in my life. As a result, this is how I feel about marriage: It is glamorously scandalous (like Lennon and Ono). It isn’t a magic key to make your life better (but it has made my life richer). It takes guts… And it creates deep humor that thickens your body with health. That’s how it feels. That’s how it feels being married to Jonathan.
7.1.13
my next blog... more personable maybe...
Poetry and song can be a very rational excuse to express myself without letting people in on my life. Naturally speaking, I have no earthly obligation to share any experience with others. It is not an obvious human need like... water. But I will try to be more transparent and less cryptic. Hopefully without losing the beauty of mystifying words.
August Sweet Praise
Ever, only, all for thee...
I sing and praise so blatantly
knowing in my heart the truth so sweet
How sweetly your truth is to my lips
I could never remain silent
I must proclaim your Love
I must express your Freedom
Why should anyone suffer the absence of you?
The rocks cry tears of longing for you
Yet the feet that stumble upon them know nothing
They walk in blind darkness
Blessed are the feet of those who bring good news
The good news that frees the lonely from heartache
rescues the lost from darkness
the weak from stumbling
the proud from folly
the fools from destruction
the confused from bewilderment
the old from being forgotten
I sing and praise so blatantly
knowing in my heart the truth so sweet
How sweetly your truth is to my lips
I could never remain silent
I must proclaim your Love
I must express your Freedom
Why should anyone suffer the absence of you?
The rocks cry tears of longing for you
Yet the feet that stumble upon them know nothing
They walk in blind darkness
Blessed are the feet of those who bring good news
The good news that frees the lonely from heartache
rescues the lost from darkness
the weak from stumbling
the proud from folly
the fools from destruction
the confused from bewilderment
the old from being forgotten
Written when I was stricken with awe for my Husband's music
Hair as a raven's
small billows of oceans
dark and freely woven
soft to the touch
Beauty of a different world
Far richer and more exquisite
in gentle living grace
Hands as sturdy barges
Withholding the sands of time and tide
Gently sweeping and caressing
the shore
Like piano keys, swiftly rapidly
soft to the touch
Beauty that lightens darkness
even with the darkness of
a moonless evening
Fingers play tunefully
full of mystery
searching for depths of caves and canyons
with one note
small billows of oceans
dark and freely woven
soft to the touch
Beauty of a different world
Far richer and more exquisite
in gentle living grace
Hands as sturdy barges
Withholding the sands of time and tide
Gently sweeping and caressing
the shore
Like piano keys, swiftly rapidly
soft to the touch
Beauty that lightens darkness
even with the darkness of
a moonless evening
Fingers play tunefully
full of mystery
searching for depths of caves and canyons
with one note
March. 2. 2012
I never knew
But why should I have?
The mysteries were hidden from plain view
the mysteries in you
Have taken me away from the cities
and houses of darkness
You have turned my weary eyes
into sublime beams of radiance
I have lost so much...
during the days of ignorance and void
I thought I would never recover
Or revisit the days of childhood before
having been tainted by ugly friends like
Worry
and
Doubt
The mysteries were so huge back then
They are still huge-in fact- even more compressed and massive
But now I'm in on it
And all that I once thought lost
I count it now as gain
Because of the miracle of love that is
Jesus
But why should I have?
The mysteries were hidden from plain view
the mysteries in you
Have taken me away from the cities
and houses of darkness
You have turned my weary eyes
into sublime beams of radiance
I have lost so much...
during the days of ignorance and void
I thought I would never recover
Or revisit the days of childhood before
having been tainted by ugly friends like
Worry
and
Doubt
The mysteries were so huge back then
They are still huge-in fact- even more compressed and massive
But now I'm in on it
And all that I once thought lost
I count it now as gain
Because of the miracle of love that is
Jesus
2.10.12
Little glitter makes friends go away
or disinterested
old means dull in the eyes of others
sometimes I wonder where they are
and why they don't see what they once did
Their indifference is insensate and callous to me
...
How many people have I made feel this way?
Perhaps with a flippant glance or an offhand wave goodbye.
or disinterested
old means dull in the eyes of others
sometimes I wonder where they are
and why they don't see what they once did
Their indifference is insensate and callous to me
...
How many people have I made feel this way?
Perhaps with a flippant glance or an offhand wave goodbye.
27.9.12
This is from March... It has an uplifting ending I haven't written yet
I am a new human today. Sick of the filth of yesterday. The grime that I thought was pure gold--that sought after gem in the rough trenches of earth...only to identify its true worth: a contaminated attempt at pure beauty.
Is that what I was all those years? A contaminated attempt at pure beauty? The putrid scent of raw flesh dressed in fashion. Fashion is pretend. Just a covering of insecurity with swaths of depravity and lonliness--all pretending to be glorious and expressive and alive.
But I'm not talking about fashion. I'm reacting out of my old mind-set in regard to what I wore, how I wore it, who I wore it around, why I wore it. And not simply just clothing. Clothing is hardly any of it. Everything. My music, my art, my car, my house, my personality, my laugh, my face, my hat, my shoes, my fingernails, my journal entrees, my blogging, my judgments, my on-line profiles, my conversations, my voice, my intonation, my humor, my friends, my interests, my pathways, my college, my God, my classes, my coffee orders, my nutrition, my job, my sense of irony, my politics, ethics, my cynicism, morals, my charities... everything. After years of stuffing my life with everything I believed in--valuing its important above all else-- I have since discovered what it was, after climbing on top of it. A Dump heap. The sewage of vanity. The soot of pride.
Is that what I was all those years? A contaminated attempt at pure beauty? The putrid scent of raw flesh dressed in fashion. Fashion is pretend. Just a covering of insecurity with swaths of depravity and lonliness--all pretending to be glorious and expressive and alive.
But I'm not talking about fashion. I'm reacting out of my old mind-set in regard to what I wore, how I wore it, who I wore it around, why I wore it. And not simply just clothing. Clothing is hardly any of it. Everything. My music, my art, my car, my house, my personality, my laugh, my face, my hat, my shoes, my fingernails, my journal entrees, my blogging, my judgments, my on-line profiles, my conversations, my voice, my intonation, my humor, my friends, my interests, my pathways, my college, my God, my classes, my coffee orders, my nutrition, my job, my sense of irony, my politics, ethics, my cynicism, morals, my charities... everything. After years of stuffing my life with everything I believed in--valuing its important above all else-- I have since discovered what it was, after climbing on top of it. A Dump heap. The sewage of vanity. The soot of pride.
Fragrant Love
In the depth of a valley
Your goodness retains Its sweetness on my lips
Even in stagnant waters
The fragrance that I've come to know guides me to a
Spring Fountain
In the frailty of my body
Your heart rushes life like a rapid river
Crushing dams and leveling levees
to the ground
------
In the pit of my greed
You offered me riches that far exceeded my lusts
In my vanity you blinded me before granting me new vision of my self:
the perfect bride of Christ
In my ego you pierced through the facade and revealed my true identity:
A humble Child
In my nothing you made something
In my lack you made worth
In my abandonment you adopted me
As your own
Your goodness retains Its sweetness on my lips
Even in stagnant waters
The fragrance that I've come to know guides me to a
Spring Fountain
In the frailty of my body
Your heart rushes life like a rapid river
Crushing dams and leveling levees
to the ground
------
In the pit of my greed
You offered me riches that far exceeded my lusts
In my vanity you blinded me before granting me new vision of my self:
the perfect bride of Christ
In my ego you pierced through the facade and revealed my true identity:
A humble Child
In my nothing you made something
In my lack you made worth
In my abandonment you adopted me
As your own
25.3.12
... sad artist... ?
Happiness is worth the work. Is it more work for an artist to be happy than sad? I'm not sure... I suppose it takes more muscles to frown than to smile; but if the muscles are so accustomed to frowning, than maybe it comes more naturally. Lately (in the last ten years or so), I've noticed how deeply sad artists can be; especially the truest ones: the ones that other artists look to to find inspiration and refuge, the ones labeled "Best and Most True to Himself." Why are artists sad? (And by artist, I assume most people know that an artist can be anyone who pursues a craft in creative inklings). A sad artist is like a sad puppy...puppies just shouldn't be sad.
There are a lot of happy artists in the universe. Many times, struggling artists look to these happy artists and think one of two things: the artist is happy because he has found success(fame/recognition/fortune...the three are not always simultaneous), or he doesn't take himself seriously (hasn't found the "depths")as an artist and should really just "get real."
After contemplating the phenomenon of why artists are sad (as I said, about ten years or so), I've discovered many very explainable reasons for it (just read the Artist's Way by Julia Cameron, or listen to Elizabeth Gilbert's "A New Way to Think About Creativity" and many other resources for explanations), but there's another huge reason.
Artists feel they have the right to share their sadness with the world at large--in whichever art form they choose. Other people who don't proclaim to be artists (but very well may be), either don't feel entitled enough to express it, or don't know how.
What if sadness was a universal affliction regardless of personality/soul/artistic enlightenment, creativeness, gender (etc.) ?
This is just a thought. I haven't given much to it (that's a lie). I like to remain inconclusive in regards to creativity and emotions. Creativity is a labrynthine mystery; one that comes very naturally and supernaturally to humans. There are annotations for this, but I won't plumb into those.
Go and be happy
There are a lot of happy artists in the universe. Many times, struggling artists look to these happy artists and think one of two things: the artist is happy because he has found success(fame/recognition/fortune...the three are not always simultaneous), or he doesn't take himself seriously (hasn't found the "depths")as an artist and should really just "get real."
After contemplating the phenomenon of why artists are sad (as I said, about ten years or so), I've discovered many very explainable reasons for it (just read the Artist's Way by Julia Cameron, or listen to Elizabeth Gilbert's "A New Way to Think About Creativity" and many other resources for explanations), but there's another huge reason.
Artists feel they have the right to share their sadness with the world at large--in whichever art form they choose. Other people who don't proclaim to be artists (but very well may be), either don't feel entitled enough to express it, or don't know how.
What if sadness was a universal affliction regardless of personality/soul/artistic enlightenment, creativeness, gender (etc.) ?
This is just a thought. I haven't given much to it (that's a lie). I like to remain inconclusive in regards to creativity and emotions. Creativity is a labrynthine mystery; one that comes very naturally and supernaturally to humans. There are annotations for this, but I won't plumb into those.
Go and be happy
2.1.12
Word of the Day
CLEMENCY
first thought: oranges
oranges... why oranges? because of those clementine mini-oranges of course.
Second thought: my cousin in-law named Cameron Lemons.. Clemons.
third thought: cleaning supplies... I'm not sure why, maybe cleaning and lemon combined?
fourth thought: (don't have a fourth thought)
Fifth thought: OH! Clemency...
-compassion-
-grace-
-a soft heart-
Clemency...
first thought: oranges
oranges... why oranges? because of those clementine mini-oranges of course.
Second thought: my cousin in-law named Cameron Lemons.. Clemons.
third thought: cleaning supplies... I'm not sure why, maybe cleaning and lemon combined?
fourth thought: (don't have a fourth thought)
Fifth thought: OH! Clemency...
-compassion-
-grace-
-a soft heart-
Clemency...
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