Comparison is the thief of joy.
I need to let things go, set them aside, not compare. I want that JOY. That succulent joy that makes life worth living.
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Friday, December 21, 2012
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
We're so caught up
"We're so caught up in our everyday lives that events of past, like ancient stars that have burned out, are no longer in orbit around our minds. There are just too many things we have to think about every day, too many new things we have to learn. New styles, new information, new technology, new terminology...But still, no matter how much times passes, no matter what takes place in the interim, there are some things we can never assign to oblivion, memories we can never rub away. They remain with us forever, like a touchstone."
-Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
not for sloth
For continuity, I will leave a similar picture to when I turned 20. A similar image, but a slightly different context (in a better way).
Because this time, this scene has the person I was missing the first time around.
And this time, we'll never have to part.
------
Addendum:
Today's Bible verse on my Mac
1 Corinthians 13:8
"Love never fails."
Apropos.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
A Memory
There was an event of some sort, in the M common room.
I think we had just finished eating in the dining hall, and as we were walking out, the group was cleaning up.
There it stood. A collection of about a hundred balloons, framing the entrance door. A balloon arch with nowhere to go, but the trash.
So we saved it. And offered to take it to our high-ceilinged room. A with one end, and me following behind, we walked out the door into the brisk night...
And then we started to run. To flatten the arch, of course. But it felt like we were on a chase, and a long bubbly dragon was flying above our heads. Holding it was so effortless, as if it were pulling us along. We passed one or two moonlit silhouettes, but we continued to run across campus, in front of the clocked tower, between the mirrored stone buildings, through the darkened trees. Faster and faster we ran until it lifted us up and we were suspended in air amidst the stars for a few breathless moments, looking down upon the silent campus.
We finally arrived at our hall and ran up the stairs that wrapped around the elevator like a far-too-long caterpillar, until it was safely in our room. It stood for weeks, first standing tall, and then...slowly, slowly drooping towards the earth, but reminding us of the night that we got to fly.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Brazil
Traveling once again!
It has been so busy this past month that I haven't even gotten a chance to enjoy the pre-departure adrenaline.
But here it is! It has been a dream for oh, I don't know how long, but I am finally going to Rio, and I've been listening to bossa nova non-stop for the past few days. I'm probably longing for the Rio days of old--or perhaps even a Rio that never existed, but that's the soundtrack I want when I'm sitting on Ipanema.
Mannnny pictures and words to come.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Two small boxes
(Her own mother, she said, had been an inspiration: she died at 101 with only two small boxes to her name. “She gave away things for years,” Lydia said. “You have to stop accumulating, and start clearing out early.”)
From the NYT
This really struck me as soon as I read it. It reminds me of Boltanski.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Whose Law?
I just got my mind rocked
about the real culture gap
and how we dropped the ball
rather, tossed it aside
gave it up
somewhere along the way
when State becomes salvation
when the dots don't connect
but instead grow larger and larger
into giant potholes
with no safety nets
and people fall and are diminished
to meaninglessness.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Thursday, June 3, 2010
I hope you get the point
Courtesy of the Harn Museum of Art and Ronald, Elizabeth and Lauren DiFilippo
Mather & Company, “Say It With A Snap! Get To The Point.,” 1925.
From NYT, T-Magazine. Find the article here.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Smallness
From Paul Strand, on moving from the US to France to experience and document the life of a pastoral French village:
"I liked the idea of being confined to a small place and then having to dig into its smallness."
---
Do you think he meant beyond the camera?
Smallness is a matter of opinion, but in some way, I feel like this is more applicable to me right now than in other times in my life.
I feel like I have no roots. Dislocated. No real home. I'm constantly going back and forth from place to place...my real house, my other house, my house away from house. How many homes can you have?
And then I dream of what home could look like, and I'm not sure what to think of it.
I wonder if Strand traveled alone and who was waiting for him in France. Did he feel invited in that village?
Like he found a new home?
I think I shall continue to look into this matter. More thoughts later.
"I liked the idea of being confined to a small place and then having to dig into its smallness."
---
Do you think he meant beyond the camera?
Smallness is a matter of opinion, but in some way, I feel like this is more applicable to me right now than in other times in my life.
I feel like I have no roots. Dislocated. No real home. I'm constantly going back and forth from place to place...my real house, my other house, my house away from house. How many homes can you have?
And then I dream of what home could look like, and I'm not sure what to think of it.
I wonder if Strand traveled alone and who was waiting for him in France. Did he feel invited in that village?
Like he found a new home?
I think I shall continue to look into this matter. More thoughts later.
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