beirut: the wellmont theatre, may 13

i believe in kindness. also in mischief. also in singing, especially when singing is not necessarily prescribed. 

mary oliver

you'd like to leave me with a little life advice? why, yes, please, come in, take off your shoes, advise away...

the thing about working way too much at a myriad of jobs that, while you're extremely grateful they pay all the sky-high bills associated with living in new york city and while you're extremely grateful they're still around while you're for the first time--at the age of twenty-five, mind you--learning how to save, they zap you of energy. because they are not the means to something else, they are not in any way associated with your great artistic loves. 

and when you find yourself with a day off for the first time in...two weeks, maybe? maybe more? you don't get out of your pajamas until around three, and only then because the promise of target is too much to resist (because the promise of target is really the promise of st. ives apricot scrub, and a new lamp, and maybe a new pair of kick-around-summer-shoes). 

the hardest thing about being exhausted all the time is that my healthy eating habits fly out the window. i confuse exhaustion for hunger and then guilt barrels in and before i know it i feel like i've taken two steps back.

so today, on this, my day-off. i plan to realign. i will head to target for the necessities (toilet paper, paper-toweling, and soap among other things). i will make a batch of cheesy kale chips to allow for healthy-snacking. i will clean the kitchen and the bathroom and scrub between my toes. i will light a candle and say a prayer and give thanks. i will reacquaint my body with some form of movement. i will organize the junk drawer that is more junk than drawer and i will try to be kind to myself. to forgive myself. to allow my mistakes and triumphs to live in harmony.

so, on this day--this day of "day-off" celebration, i ask you this...

when you feel like your little locomotive has jumped the tracks (the locomotive being your life, in case that was unclear) how do you get back on? what are the rituals you subscribe to that bring about balance and self-love and a little stability?

while visiting with my two-and-a-half-year-old friend:

sometimes right after little zoobie wakes up from the nap that she's now fighting against with every fiber of her being we watch curious george. or madagascar. madagascar 2, that is. for thirty minutes. that's what she's allowed. and she drinks her milk. and we both eat her pirate booty and letter crackers (if there is one food group i could subsist on it would be that of children's snacks). and yesterday as we sat on her parents bed watching madagascar, her smooshed up against the oversized white pillows and me hearing the movie for the first time, i was struck by this:





Listen Moto Moto. You better treat this lady like a queen because you my friend, you found yourself the perfect women. If I was ever so lucky to find the perfect women I would give her flowers everyday and not just any flowers, okay? Her favorites are orchids, white, and breakfast in bed... six loaves of wheat toast with butter on both sides, no crust. The way she likes it. I'd be her shoulder to cry on and her best friend and I'd spend everyday trying to think of how to make her laugh. She has the most, most amazing laugh. Well that's what I would do if were you.






all of it coming out of the mouth of a giraffe. 


it was awesome. worth seeing the film just for that. 




(ps: if the man i end up doesn't think i'm the most beautiful or the smartest or even the most fun, so be it. but heaven help me, i sure as heck hope he'd follow me to the ends of the earth for my laugh). 

small fries.

i almost started to cry yesterday, during work.

because working on a sunday is hard enough: i'm always most aware of my own family being elsewhere. and a not terribly near elsewhere, at that.

and because i've been working so much lately. and i've lost track of all days of the week. and i find i'm exhausted. all the time. and so my lenten resolution of keeping a clean living space has fallen by the wayside. and yes, yes, i know lent is over! but it turns out the resolution was quite helpful and kept me quite calm and so yes, i've decided to carry it into the rest of the year. after all, my corner castle is much more enjoyable when the bed is made and the trash is put away and i don't have dishes stockpiled on the bookcase.

and i meant to write this morning about man kryptonite, because i have indeed unearthed the thing and how cannot i not share that discovery? actually i've been meaning to write about it for a few days now--it's that exciting and dangerous--the power must be shared. but not today. perhaps, tomorrow? you'll meet me back here tomorrow for that? fantastic.

and i have little writing ideas typed into the notes sections of my iphone but that autocorrect was at it again leaving me with a note of no sense and i have this wily, little notion that the autocorrect transformed what i wanted to say into something of no meaning: Nick there in the evenings. that's what it says. but i have no idea who this nick character is or why i should feel the need to write about him?  nick, nick! are you out there? who are you?


oh goodness this post itself is a thing of no sense. i have a long day before me. of one job beginning at ten followed by the closing shift at another which ensures at least a twelve/thirteen hour work day (this thought may have been the one to bring tears to the brink last night). am i complaining yet? i'm good at complaining.

i know. small fries, this stuff. small fries. and not forever.

because there is so much good for which i can give thanks. for the sun casting it's glow over manhattan on this day. for the promise of a meeting with an old friend tomorrow. for the concert on friday. oh, yes, and my family and my health and on and on...

happy monday, then. non?