Be with me here. Share some laughs as I offer some words that didn’t make the blog all these years, nearly eight years now. They are disparate and unglued. They wouldn’t otherwise go together but make perfect sense as outtakes, bloopers from my blog. They are the leftovers of my previous lives that have somehow captured the magical power we call creativity; I call spirit. I like to write my life, as you know, and it gives me great joy to have rediscovered these unfinished quips and quotables. I hope you enjoy them too.
“But that’s what love is all about, beating the odds.”
“The Sound of It, My Heart Dropping.”
“My art doesn’t necessarily hang on walls, and my writing happens mostly in my mind. My give will feel like a push, and my take will seem like a surrender. My hand will never feel like a hold.”
“Kindness is setting you up on a legit blind date six months from now because in 12, you’ll be having a wedding you won from a contest you never entered.”
The Imperfect Art of Pushing Envelopes: I don’t know what I like until I fall in love with it. I think this might explain curiosity–though quite different from killing the cat. This statement isn’t about seeking adventures and crossing boundaries only to discover an unfortunate ending. It’s about being unafraid to pursue the things that pique your interest, asking questions as a tried and true way of active research, and being okay with your effort despite the outcome–however it is received by the rest of the world. It’s about pushing envelops — going beyond the limits of satisfaction and what’s considered acceptable. Which is why I don’t know what I like. My scale of measurement is love.
“It’s entirely possible to drift into the personalities of the people you surround yourself with on a regular basis. That’s why I always shake my head whenever I watch women’s basketball on television now.”
The Office Woman’s Guide to Never Having Cankles: It’s really important to me that I don’t have cankles. I’m okay with a little bit of belly and broad swimmer’s shoulders, because I’m well on my way to getting trim and staying strong. But if I ever have nondescript, untoned legs, it means I will have officially lost my athletic identity. And, not to mention, I will never touch a weight ever again if it means I’ll look like a football player. No woman should ever have that much muscle, be top heavy, or have cankles.
“Have a Clue When You’re Up at the Plate.”
“I suppose now is a good time to harvest, collecting pumpkins and gourds and apples and everything sweet-smelling of autumn. The season can take your breath away with its freshness, it’s only right that you take it all in. Gather in your arms all the things your hands have made; they are presents to give out at Christmas time. Embrace the hard work that Time has softened and made ripe. Everything is before you.”
“Consider this: we get 365 do-overs a year. That’s 365 changes to start over, to make a change, to create.”
“I’ve never been to the circus, but if I did, I’d imagine it’d be a lot like a New Jersey beach.”
“March is Women’s History Month, and given my history as a woman working on many teams with other women, this is the first time that I actually care. In the year 2013. I care because this is the” [didn’t care that much to finish the sentence ;-)]
“Those goals were not my own.
These goals are now my own.”
“We have a strategic plan. It’s called Doing Things.”
“Here’s what: It’s a little off-putting when the first thing the snarky moderator from the New York Times says at the Social Media Summit is, ‘Relax, this is going to be a conversational setting.’ As if we should all stop holding our breath in the presence of the media giant. Of course there were also a lot of other media mogul representatives in attendance from various news agencies across the world–at least they thought so anyway. But it was New York pretension at its finest. And there’s not a more well-know industry for it than journalism.”
“There is a fine line between living to prove people wrong and living to prove yourself right.”
“When I was a kid, I could read music. Unfortunately, I have lost that touch. Those memories are the blind spots where the notes are raised, hanging along parallel lines I would move my finger over before I played, like brail. It was right around the time I learned how to read books, but music was something you could play at all hours of the night in your garage.”
“The age of wonder
The lost art of finding our way
The magic of reality.”
Cloaked in Obvious Cryptic: For the next 10 minutes, I told them of my parallel lives, and the purposeful decision to split myself in two. At the time, I was anticipating that my school self and my work self would find each other in future time to become a new self. I was banking on change to transform my head and heart: the way I thought about the things I loved, and the things I couldn’t care less about. What I got in return was a resounding clarity of divergence between people, places and things I’d want to devote my time to, and the grayness of all things expired. Somewhere on the spectrum between white and gray, was a wholeness that could accommodate breaks and falls and total losses; a resilience woven from a composite of significant experiences.
“Broken sofa delivered from shitty Ikea? Fine. No screws for my shoe rack, either? Whatever. Still haven’t sold my sectional sofa in storage? Maybe tomorrow. Bathtub leaking water into the apartment below me? Answer the door in my best friend cat T-shirt, no problem. Verizon keeps billing me for a home phone line I don’t have? Don’t even have the energy. Travel for work? Sure. Problem solve? We’ll see how it goes. Another postponed meeting? Oh well. Be a little less ambitious? Glory, glory, Hallelujah!”
“I know what I’m going to do with that empty Tostitos salsa jar that I washed and saved. I almost forgot I even kept it and definitely forgot why I kept it, but now that I know what I’m going to do with it, what I’m going to put in it, to collect and save and have forever, I am very happy that something demanded me to keep it and stick it on my window sill. When I return to it tomorrow, I will get a piece of that beige tape that your old art teacher in elementary school used all the time, and I will will rip a label from its roll, stick it on the jar and write in big black Sharpie marker letters: WIND.”
“Monumental Moment #1: Lower the volume of everyone else around you. Raise the volume of yourself. Give yourself a voice. Give yourself a fucking megaphone.”
“Found out that 2009 is NOT a Leap Year, therefore ‘365 Plus 1’ is an incorrect title for this journal. However, I have faith that in good time, I will find a new meaning to the Plus 1 aspect of all this.”
“But to you I say Love is not lost. You are simply not found.
To you I say, You are the hotel on Boardwalk and Park Place, patiently waiting for your luck to change.”
Prayer to Saint Jude, patron saint of lost causes: “Saint Jude, we have some problems in our friendship.”
“What’s going on here? It smells like piss and there’s an old woman in the corner reading a paperback novel with a magnifying glass.”
“In a city, some way to pursue a purpose. In the suburbs, simply a way to pass the time.”
“The most challenging part of being a storyteller is putting yourself in other people’s shoes without losing your own footing.”
“A tantrum in the library is easy to spot when the six-year-old boy being carried out in his mother’s arms is screaming, ‘You’re choking me, you’re choking me!'”
“Last night I watched Life of Pi and wailed like a baby for no good reason.”
“Are we just content to watch the sun set, and not at all curious for why it rises?”