I am not a morning person. I am not a night person, either. I'd happily sleep from 11:00pm to 8:00am every single day. But I have children and ambitious dreams, so I rise early. Very early. This morning, I was up at 4:30, long before the birds and the children. Long before the sun. I … Continue reading Morning skies.
personal essays & meditations
Squeezing the writing into my everyday.
A writer friend linked to this lovely and inspiring piece, by Michelle Aldredge, about the ways the constraints of life, particularly those of parenthood, are essential to creativity. (Robin, the writer friend who led me to Michelle's post, writes truly beautiful things herself.) I considered the spaces into which I squeeze my own writing. My … Continue reading Squeezing the writing into my everyday.
Breath.
Monday: One of the students in my memoir class writes about the death of her mother. My student was sixty-one when her mother passed away. Her mother had lived to the enviable age of ninety-three. A death not unexpected. And yet, in my student's piece, she writes about the sudden feeling of aloneness. "I no … Continue reading Breath.
Instagram.
I have subjected myself to an unnecessary amount of stress lately. I have over-scheduled myself, I have taken on too many commitments, I have been laid off, I have been through job interview after job interview, I don't know what I want to be when I grow up. No, that's not true. I know what … Continue reading Instagram.
Guilty mama moment.
I've been too busy. Feeling the weight of having not a moment to breath, to think, to be, I did what every working mother would do: I Googled "achieving work-life balance."The moment when the amazing that is Google becomes less than amazing: When an overwhelmed, stressed out woman suddenly has 5.1 million results through which … Continue reading Guilty mama moment.
Anti-Consumerist Packrattery. Or: Too Much Stuff.
We moved our beds into our new apartment five weeks ago. That day was the mark, the date we titled "official," as if all our possessions and thoughts and emotions had fully left Gettysburg and comfortably settled in Silver Spring. We are anything but settled. Our house in Gettysburg is still stretched at the seams, … Continue reading Anti-Consumerist Packrattery. Or: Too Much Stuff.
Home.
The view from the dining room table still feels foreign. I can see the University of Maryland through the windows. It seems awkward, this proximity to my alma mater, like running into an ex-boyfriend I haven't seen in years. This place, this city where I've lived longer than any other place in my life, it's … Continue reading Home.
A dilemma discovered while unpacking.
I love a neat space, one with minimal clutter and maximum organization. One with just enough photos and art to make it personal, but with an absence of excess that makes it both difficult to dust and a pain in the ass to move. I also love to make things. To knit, to crochet, to … Continue reading A dilemma discovered while unpacking.
The path back in.
I've posted a new profile picture to facebook, one that says I'm not checking facebook too often these days. In all honesty, that's a lie. As of five minutes ago, I've checked facebook no fewer than half a dozen times today. The frequent checking stems from frequent nursings. I find myself antsy when I nurse, … Continue reading The path back in.
Art on the brain.
Yesterday, my friend David Topper posted a link to this article on the fashion blog Fashionista, which describes how Francesca Eastwood (Clint Eastwood's daughter) and her boyfriend, photographer Tyler Shields, destroyed a $100,000 Birkin handbag for the sole purpose of shooting a series of photos. The reactions to the photographs and the acts that Clintwood … Continue reading Art on the brain.
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