i would move there for the colors alone.

i've been begging my parents to allow me to post some photos from their recent trip to morocco--to give my usual black and white blog a much needed infusion of color--a feast for the eyes.

what i wouldn't give to go to morocco. the colors! oh, the colors!

or prague. i could live with a trip to prague.

or berlin! oh the underground culture of it all...

in fact, i'm just about going batty waiting for a man to sail me down the dalmatian coast!

let's talk wanderlust...where would you go first?

breath, panic, girl-time, and ice cream.

this morning i begrudgingly got out of bed.

i trudged over the hill that now separates my apartment from the corner store.

i was halfway up the hill when i realized i wasn't breathing.

no, i don't mean i was breathing heavily.

i mean i was actually holding my breath.

you see, i am leaving new york for three months in exactly two weeks. by the time i return i'll be just about two weeks from turning twenty-five. (oh, the symmetry).

reality is setting in. and breath is leaving my body far too quickly, not to return.

i have an unenviable to-do list to conquer today:

and on and on...

these are things i could (should) have been doing all weekend.

{instead i sat in bed reading. and while sitting in bed reading is the most noble and glorious of all past times, even it has a time and a place. its time and place being somewhere at the end of my to-do list (meaning what i should do once all other things are accomplished)}.

last night though, i paused the panic button and met up with my girlfriend (and something of a soul-mate) alisha (the girl behind the whole doppelgaenger saga) and we pranced around the lower east side, making time for ice cream.

because, let's be honest, there is always time--always--for ice cream.

i got all things bad for me, while alisha actually got fruit in hers. oh man, i will never be the girl that puts fruit in her ice cream. (at home yes, but out on the town? no way).

so (if it's your thing) make some time for ice cream on this holiday.

i will be here at my desk, in my room, meticulously checking off all the things on my never-ending-to-do-list, breathing all the while (i hope).

the post about absolutely nothing. the brain has gone.

i feel like i should have a grand story for you. some kind of recompense for my time away from this blogspot lover of mine.

nothing. i have nothing to give you.

i was spending time with my mom and aunt. but you knew that.

all i can say is that it was uneventful in the best possible way. trips to nordstrom (getting our makeup done), the christmas tree shop, bed, bath, and beyond. breakfasts in front of regis and kelly. home-cooked dinners at my aunt's house. running to get out of the rain. falling asleep on the couch at night.

oh and listening to the endless stories about their trip to morocco with a former ambassador.

needless to say, i was quite jealous, and would like to go. myself. immediately. (oh, with an ambassador in tow, if i could swing it {though seems doubtful}).

but there was not enough time. never is.

this is all to say that i am back. and that i enjoy eating out of bowls more than off of plates. and i cannot stand the sound of gum being chewed. that is all. thank you.

worth.

he was older. dated often. jewish. born and bred in this city of skyscrapers.

i was--well, am--still young. an inexperienced dater (to put it mildly). catholic. from a city situated on bayous.

so many differences.

if i had known these things--if he had known, perhaps it wouldn't have begun.

the age alone made it difficult.

but i liked him before i knew. and when i did know, well, then it became just a number.

i asked him early on if he'd ever been married. ever proposed to anyone. those were the things that seemed important. he said no, asked if i needed to know why not. nope. not important, i said.

later, without prompting, he said, i'm not a settler. and never had more perfect words been spoken. and i loved him for that perfect, unprompted response.

and yet. that became the thing. the thing that nailed me in the end.

it was when i realized i was just another girl not worth settling for that my heart began to break.

perhaps, that's too simplistic. but that's what i felt.

i miss him. and i think about him. more often than i'd care to admit. certainly, more often than i'd care for him to know. but maybe the hardest thing has been coping with the knowledge that for him i just wasn't worth it. which becomes am i worth it? which of course, yes, yes, i know that i am.

but it's never about knowing so much as feeling, is it?

and for a while there i felt...unworthy. mediocre. like the kind of girl you can't bring home to mom.

don't get me wrong, i was not looking to meet mom. i just wanted to feel... i just wanted to feel. i don't know. better than that.

the ego takes a hit. and it's coming back to yourself that takes some time.

but a week ago when american pie came on the radio it stirred the low-country girl in me. and i shimmied around my room chasing the sunlight and laughing at my oddities. and the journey home to self trucked right along.

but it takes some time, this truckin'.

it surely takes some time.

oops.

i don't know what day it is.

i am not even sure where i live anymore. (i've been shuttling between my aunt's house in montclair and my apartment in the city).

i didn't mean to step away from here for so long.

but between my mother's visit and preparing to depart nyc in two weeks (and not return until september 18 {euf}), i actually feel my mind slipping through my fingers.

so forgive me. please, forgive me.

right now we're squeezing in a little last mother-daughter time. we're watching the bachelorette (what's with the bad hair extensions?) though my mother is occasionally (often, actually) changing the channel because (in her own words):

it makes her uncomfortable when they toot their own horn so hard.

this is all to say, i have not disappeared. i'll be back. tomorrow, in fact. (i think. i hope).

ruined.

the harlot house.

that was my first thought when attempting to recall the name of my new apartment building, just after moving in.

my second thought being, that can't be right.

incidentally, i fear this will be the apartment that ruins me for all other apartments. but it has nothing to do with harlots and everything to do with sunlight, space, endless wood floors, french doors, and a view of the hudson for which there are no words.

(now if i could just do something about that darn A train)

back soon.

my mamma is in town.

virtual coffee break begins now...

through the window.

tonight i headed to the suburbs.
i stood in the large, well-lit kitchen.
i washed the lettuce. and dried it.
60 minutes on the television.
i chopped the apples, toasted the slivered almonds.
prepared a meal for the people i most love.
and i thought. this will be such a nice life i'll live,
this cooking (well, salad-making) on a sunday night in a home of my own.

but not yet.

a picnic along the tribeca waterfront.

my gorgeous (and unbelievably talented) friend, erica lives in tribeca with her clark-kent-of-a-husband, chris. (i blogged about their wedding, here).

oh, tribeca! to live in tribeca where the air is fresh and the crowds are sparse! (and the rent is sky-high).

they live there (at a great price, as luck would have it) in a single bedroom (in a hotel). the catch is..

there's no kitchen.

this would deter most.

not erica.

she cooks. without the kitchen.

and when i say cooks, i mean...really cooks.

erica being brilliant (as she is) has created a kitchen-of-sorts in the bathroom and a blog to go along with it.

today we met up in union square which (while i'm not really a fan of because of the huge crowds) has a massive and versatile greenmarket. and from there we headed home and the cooking began.

what i really love about erica's take on food is that she's adventurous about simplicity. and she believes in educating herself about what it is she's eating and why it's good for her.

i'm starting to think there's nothing like a time outdoors, good food, and girl-talk (intelligent girl-talk, at that!).

to see why i gush about this girl check out her very new and very exciting foray into blogdom.

never has a better case been made for failure.

it should be noted that this is now my favorite place to kill some time.

good saturday morning to you too.

and.

you're welcome.

ps: might i suggest some liz gilbert and a little jaime oliver?

(though jk rowling might just change your life).

he (chekhov) insisted it (the cherry orchard) was a comedy.

{myself as anya with our lovely varya in chautauqua theatre co's production of the cherry orchard directed by ethan mcsweeny}

i went to look it up the other day.

the scene from the cherry orchard that i can't stop thinking about.

and there it was. page 382 of the plays of anton chekhov (the paul schmidt translation).

it's about ten lines long. takes up half the page.

it looks like nothing, this scene.

and yet, that was the scene that brought me to the wings each night. that was the scene i couldn't bear to miss.

the proposal. or rather the not proposal.

you see lopakhin goes in to propose to varya (who knows he's coming in to propose to her) and yet, it just, doesn't. happen.

but it's so full. the scene is so pregnant with the space around the words. with possibility. promise.

and so i would watch each night. from offstage. knowing how it would end. and yet hoping that maybe this time--maybe this time it might go just a little bit differently. that if varya turns around just a little bit sooner or if the final line comes just a little bit later--that it could all end... better.

i remember saying to the lovely gentleman who played our lopakhin (and who i was just ever so slightly, oh you know, just a little bit, in love with) just this once, actually do it. just this once propose, and let's see what happens.

and yet he didn't. he couldn't. and the emptiness that immediately follows the unimaginable fullness of those ten-or-so lines broke my heart night. after. night.

i've been doing this recently. standing in the wings of my own memories. watching the scenes replay. attempting to find the one variation that might just change it all. and thinking that if i can just get the actor playing yasha to call out for lopakhin a little bit later (or whatever my equivalent of that is) perhaps...

but chekhov was a genius. he knew what he was doing. and so i'm gonna choose now, in this moment, to trust that.

today i believe.

i believe in open windows. and climbing back into bed immediately following a bath. i believe in surprise visits and spur-of-the-moment trips. in high-waisted bathing suits, the beatles, and open-air-markets. that sunday mornings were made for pancakes. and that i'll fall in love with the man who wears his hat backwards and will clear the living room of furniture just so we can spend the night dancing.

1. and 2.

it would seem there are two things i cannot bring myself to write about.

1. theatre

2. the only man i've ever really been in love with

i'd like to write about both. i attempt to write about both. often. but the words simply do not come.

i was going to try. just now. to give theatre a little whirl. to put some words into the air.

so i sat down to my computer. looked at the blank screen. looked a the rough draft i penciled into my moleskin yesterday. got tired. and decided to take a nap instead.

yup, a nap at seven o'clock.

will try again. later.

my spot in the city.

this morning ruby (my 18-month-old friend) and i attempted to escape the desperate throws of a dying winter by passing our time in the american museum of natural history.

ruby's favorite bit is the giant giraffe in the gift shop.

mine is the set of windows just off the dinosaur exhibit on the fourth floor. you can sit on the benches there and see nothing but the green canopy of central park and light. oh, the light! sitting there i find it impossible not to love this city.

(ps: ruby helped me type this post. she's quite adept with the space bar.)

when i saw you i fell in love,

and you smiled because you knew.

romeo and juliet

on having my picture taken.

before beginning:

this is a continuation.

of a story.

about ned.

ned being my nasty,

little eating disorder.

more info here.

sarah, myself, carolyn, and amanda

i thought it was about weight.

my anxiety about having my picture taken.

i thought it was about the weight.

thought it was that the pictures reflected what i couldn't admit to myself.

that i was fat.

i thought that was it.

but it wasn't. not really.

we were out on saturday night. my friends and i.

i with my little camera nestled deep into the folds of my go-to-black-bag (which has finally reached the critical point of looking just-worn-in-enough {but i digress}).

yes, i with my little camera. i who knew it was there. i who wanted to take it out. but couldn't.

until amanda (my infinitely wise roommate) asked where it was and began to do what i could not.

and it was there, in the bar on saturday night, perched on my stool, with prosecco in hand, that i stared at that little camera screen and declared, oh, i look like an adult.

but that wasn't quite right. that wasn't exactly what i meant to say. what i meant to say was, oh, there i am. that's me. that's me, happy. huh.

illumination ensued.

i realized it was not the reflection of fat i feared.

it was that i couldn't find myself.

it was that i saw instead this girl who was so sad. this shell of someone i once knew.

but now, after all this time, i am beginning to see the picture in its entirety. and it is one of such happiness.

yes, yes, i still see the bits and pieces--of course--my disappearing eyes and brand-new-renegade-cheek-mole (an audacious little thing it is!). but i can see beyond those things. beyond what i like and do not like.

and suddenly there i am. an adult (or so it would seem). and a happy one at that.

go figure.

so you think that you're a failure, do you?

well, you probably are.

what's wrong with that?

in the first place, if you've any sense at all you must have learned by now that we pay just as dearly for our triumphs as we do for our defeats.

go ahead and fail. but fail with wit, fail with grace, fail with style. a mediocre failure is as insufferable as a mediocre success.

tom robbins

via.

mamma

more often than not i can't even begin to fathom how i got so damn lucky.

happy mother's day to mothers everywhere!

what better time to contemplate love than a friday?

note: {the quote} i first saw this via a couple featured on either once wed or 100 layer cake but now for the life of me i can't remember which one. i am passing it on to you via them and many others. {as for the video} i really just want to share the song (beauty by the shivers)and this was the least distracting video i could find. so turn it up and go about cleaning your room or surfing elsewhere. my roommate amanda just introduced me to it and now i have it on continuous play. i cannot stop. seriously.

somehow this pairing of quote and song just makes sense to me.

love is the ultimate outlaw.

it just won't adhere to any rules.

the most any of us can do is sign

on as its accomplice. instead of vowing

to honor and obey, maybe we should

swear to aid and abet. that would

mean that security is out of the

question. the words make and

stay become inappropriate.

my love for you has no strings

attached. i love you for free.

tom robbins

rilke, my rilke.

i was going through my books this past week. lovingly assembling my bookshelf when i came across rilke's letters to a young poet. immediately i was brought back to a small cubicle on the second floor of the school library. it was there that i sat. first year. reading this book. understanding so little of it (as it turns out). just before i entered a prolonged period of great sadness.

i have begun again now. understanding a little bit more (much of which being the extent to which i don't know). and it seems fitting that i read re-visit the book now, as i slowly unravel my own happiness. as i slowly emerge from the darkness of a period which has marked me.

"things are not all so comprehensible and expressible as one would mostly have us believe; most events are inexpressible, taking place in a realm which no word has ever entered..."

rilke talks about art and sex and love and solitude. the things that give breath to this life.

this is all to say. this is what i will be reading this weekend. frontwards, backwards, with high-lighter and black pen. and i think you should maybe pick up your own copy. ya know?

studying stars.

sometimes i can't imagine how two people ever fall in love.

it seems to me the world is a complex constellation of misdirected gazes.

her looking at him looking at that woman looking at that man looking at that girl looking at that boy looking at. the wrong her.

a zigzagging, never-ending game of connect the dots.

but i suppose, out of every million misplaced glances, there is one brief, silent, glittering connection:

two pairs of eyes meeting. and the world set ablaze.

a nyc {for tryon} picnic.

oh how i love fort tryon park!

{home of the beloved new leaf cafe}

oh how words fail to extol its many virtues!

it is my favorite place in all of new york. the air is cool and fresh {reminiscent of my grandparent's home in briarcliff}.

and the flowers are in bloom now. the smell! oh, the smell! so if you're in the city get on the nearest A train and get off at 190th. take the elevator up and find yourself in the sweetest little subway station that catapults you into forest. yes, that's right. i said catapult. and forest.

so when deciding where to celebrate cinco de mayo, it was a no-brainer. we gathered blankets, chips and guacamole, hummus, bread and goat cheese.

insta-picnic!

happy fifth, indeed!

breakfast.

i'm feeling a little ...

hmm...

i don't know what i'm feeling this morning.

my ears are itching. allergies have taken hold.

my parents leave for morocco today. i wish i was with them.

i am missing home desperately.

and i'm scared.

(huh.

yup, that's it.

that's what i'm feeling).

overwhelmed by life itself.

oh, did i tell you that i'm leaving new york for the summer?

for three months.

i'm headed to a land many of you might have heard of:

utah?

yes, utah.

i'm going to find out about a life.

but more on that later.

for now i'm just thankful for meaningful breakfasts.

meaningful breakfasts are a better attempt at equilibrium than anything else i can think of (today at least).

umbrella.

last night i dreamt that a man i once loved lent me an umbrella.

i awoke feeling slightly unsettled.

does this mean the metaphorical rains are headed my way?

perhaps.

but maybe it also means that the umbrella will be there just at the exact moment the sky opens up and the landscape of my life begins to shift.

home.

there's a corner store that my roommate amanda likes to go to when she's feeling homesick.

they carry maltas and all goya products. sugar candies and spanish coca-colas. and after just a moment she feels like she's back home in puerto rico.

i thought long and hard about where i can go when i'm feeling homesick for texas.

and baskin robbins was the best i could come up with.

it's no bluebell, but it'll do.

we do not grow absolutely, chronologically.

we grow sometimes in one dimension,

and not in another; unevenly.

we grow partially. we are relative.

we are mature in one realm, childish in another.

the past, the present, and future mingle

and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present.

we are made up of layers, cells, constellations.

anais nin

a manhattan weekend. in pictures.