happy new year!

i have so many new years resolutions for this next year.

not because there's so much that i want to change.

but because suddenly there's so very much that seems possible. 

disclaimer: two years later

i get sad after christmas. in my stomach. a wet sponge of sadness. heavy and porous all at once.

the lines on my forehead are deepening. the skin around my eyes becoming ever-more fragile.

i sleep with the humidifier on. and i wake early just so i have time to read before the day begins.

my left eye still leaks. not much to do about that. it simply is, this little leak.

when no on is home, i pump up the music and remember how as a little girl i would pull out my big-bird-record-player and my father would move the living room furniture and we'd dance. oh, how we'd dance!

i don't have bangs now, i'm incredibly vain about my eyelashes, and i'm highly susceptible to any sort of sales-pitch. (one might in fact call me gullible. and they might in fact be right).

i love riding a bike. and i still yearn for a vespa--in my toes i yearn for it.

i long for a year in europe. the consumption of lattes without restraint. open-air piazzas and history etched into every nook. i long for trains and the lilting musicality of an unknown language.

i think a person can be a million things. things that seemingly stand in direct opposition. there is no end. nothing more stunning than a little humanity. or humility.

i want nothing so much as a little balcony. just off our apartment. wrought-iron fencing. and plants!

i want a life lived in color. vibrant and deep.

i believe in dressing up. for the theatre. for church. for morning meetings and nights out. i believe how we dress ourselves is an unconscious indicator of how we'd like to be treated. (i actually like panty-hose).


i'm a firm believer in strict-parenting. and boundaries. that education begins at home. and education, more than anything, will change this world. it transcends party lines, divisions between culture and country--it is the great equalizer (in the best possible way).
i believe that pleases and thank yous speak volumes of a person's character. that an unsolicited smile is a profound act of kindness. and that the more love a person cultivates for himself, the more he then delivers freely into the world. (and surely this world needs a little more love).

and yes, i climb onto soap-boxes more often than i should.
and yes, i get passionate--such is my cross.

and i'm so much better. so much better than two years ago when i first wrote this. so much better. so much fuller. so much more myself.

so much more aware that this christmas sadness will pass. that all things pass. that things change and deepen.

and that this life, hard as it is, is so damn worth it.

just so you know.

love,
me

the two-days-after-Christmas-gift

you spend months, years, (a year?), weeks, fortnights, minutes, innumerable seconds pining after someone. wanting them, missing them, needing them. feeling unworthy of them-because that's the story that was told. by him? by you? somewhere in all that passing of time you've forgotten. where to lay the blame? doesn't really matter, you suppose. not anymore, anyway. or did it ever?

and then one day you wake and the light has shifted. and the lens comes into focus. and you realize that all along--actually--it was he who was unworthy of you.

and god does that realization feel good.

the blizzard's aftermath.

a photo account of montclair, nj post-storm. all photos taken by my brother (since i was stuck here in the city).

new yorkers were encouraged to stay home today. 

work was cancelled. the day was suddenly mine and free.

my family was only twenty minutes away in new jersey. however with the 20-24 inches of snow on the roads they were as good as across the world.

so i was snowbound. all by my lonesome. 

and what's a girl to do when the day stretches long before her? clean, of course. 

i scrubbed the stove. the inside of the fridge. i soaked the garbage and recycling cans (in the bathtub, no less). got down on all fours and worked away at the spots on our aging wood floors. 

and when all was said and done i took a walk. 

i felt how the snow changes the city. how a quiet takes hold. inundates everything, everyone. how when the snow settles, but has yet to be cleared the city takes deep, gasping breaths. reaching for the stillness, the calm. pulling it into itself. storing it away. reveling in the short time it  is allowed to simply be. to exist. and when no one is looking--when they're shielding their eyes from the snow, or digging a car out of the snowbank, the city exposes its heart. for just one moment. it opens up, unfolds, unfurls. feels the electric cold against its great, naked nerve. and then closes again. recharged. ready for the next. 

if you're really quiet. if you stand really still. and you get really lucky. you'll feel it--the reverberations of it--in your bones. and the heart carries on. 

a little bit of Christmas.

(and yes. that santa i'm with? it's made of ice cream).

around noon today i enjoyed the first hint of blizzard...

but as i walked home around nine tonight enjoyment would not have been the word i used. nor would i employ hint when referring to the blizzard. 

let's just say, i had my umbrella facing headlong into the wind, my free arm shielding my eyes from the potent precipitation, and i still didn't think i was gonna get through the block and the half to the subway. 

it's gonna be interesting to see what kind of a world i wake to tomorrow, because it sure as heck is snowing. and i mean snowing. 

(rough as it may prove to be, don't think i'm not enjoying every second. the sound of white: thrusting wind and city silence.)

a day late, but...

i hope you had (and continue to have) a beautiful holiday season.

new york (and i imagine much of the northeast) looks like the innards of a snow globe right now. 

and a white christmas (or boxing day, really) is a lovely thing!

a letter to the man i'll one day walk towards with flowers in my hair and a prayer in my eyes.

you get to call me by my full name.

meghan.

that's for you. just for you. no one else.

love, love,
yours

happy december 22.

my hair is pinned up in a faux bob this morning--an attempt to do something with last night's leftover curls. it's surely messy.

i'm off to do some christmas shopping. yup, i'm that girl. i'm so that girl. that girl. (in fact, i'm that girl who's now afraid she's just not gonna get it all done).

i have to work this christmas season so i'm stuck in new york. and i've been stuck in a bit of a funk as of late, but yesterday i had this sudden thought (i'll tell you about that later) and the funk has lifted and i'm left remembering that often the unconventional holidays are the most meaningful.

even if i'm not home, i'm with family. and holidays are about attitude, if nothing else.

so this morning i leave you with another head and the heart clip. i've been listening to them non-stop. i love this video because it just seem so darn joyous. imperfect and a little rough around the edges: human. pure light.

deep set eyes? my personal kryptonite. that rufus sewell. he gets me every time.

saw this a few days ago on one of my most-adored blogs (una bella vita) and haven't been able to stop thinking about it since. 

wherever i go...my camera will follow...

one of a few new year's resolutions that i'm trying to get a jump start on.

i'm saving my money to buy a heavy duty camera with the hope of then taking one of nicole's classes (or at least getting the textbook). but i figure before i spend the big bucks on a nice camera i have to make a habit of taking photos wherever and whenever.

(did i ever tell you that it was a b in photography my junior year of high school that nocked me off the honor roll for the first time in my life?)

never too late to improve one's self, i say!

a start to the week.

The Truth has shared so much of Itself

With me

That I can no longer call myself

A man, a woman, an angel,

Or even pure

Soul.

Hafiz

today is my beautiful momma's birthday.

and do you know what she did this morning? spent an hour on the phone making me feel good. 

she's a good mom.

happy birthday mom! (i love this picture--i love the shared look).

the astor turret

on the fourth floor of the american museum of natural history, behind the dinosaurs (think of it: dinosaurs!) is the astor turret...arguably my favorite place in all the city. 

full of light and laughing children it is a place of such peace and simplicity. a place for quiet thought. an escape overlooking central park.
a place i might one day take my own children (think of it: my own children!). might be some time before that last thing happens...

friday.

i'm a little bit granola. and i like my music a little folk-y. so on this lovely friday morning i leave you with these two little nuggets of my week. the first a video by a seattle band, the head and the heart (which of course i became aware of by one of your blogs that now for the life of me i can't seem to get back to) and the second, a gorgeous piece of writing that simultaneously filled me with such wonder, sadness, and love.

this weekend i plan to finally get some christmas shopping done. run the errands that have been on my list for far too long to count. and have a little fun: pictures forthcoming!




There is nothing scarier than the first time you see the weakness in your rock, the frailty of your human pillar. The mortal state looks lighter and too thin. The choices become yours and you desperately and fleetingly beg your mind to recall the instruction manual you need to believe you've been subconsciously writing all your life. There had been contridiction between instruction and action- but not much. It always felt clear what she meant. You wonder passively if when she moves on, her voice- no, her standards- will still live on the ground floor of your heart. Holding all you've done up in a billowing skyscraper of "stuff".

via  here. 

dear husband-to-be,

you should know that i like to sleep with the humidifier on full-blast.

and i feel sexiest in oversized, button-down oxfords.

and yes, i've taken to sleeping with tree-lights on. all night.


love, love,

the girl who'll one day wear your button-downs

i sat in tom's office yesterday morning weeping gently.

my hands tucked between my legs. sitting on the unforgiving brown couch, next to the worn velvet pillow.

tom sat somewhere between to-the-side-of and behind the large three-sided desk.

we were in the room i don't care for. it's too large--the room--with a mammoth, faux-wood-panneled desk, over-saturated light, and a scent of ketchup that's sometimes-there, sometimes-not.

but there i sat. weeping. gently.

i feel like i'm banging my head against a glass wall, i told tom. i feel like things can't continue on this way. something has to change. my life is stagnant and i'm so filled with the need for change that i might just explode. but i can't imagine that anything will change. ever. 


it's near then, tom calmly said.

his words hung in the air for a moment. buoyant and light. tangible almost. i wanted to reach out and pocket them. but there was no need. because they were true. as soon as he spoke them i knew them to be true. and truth can't be collected in one's pockets. it simply is.

why do i always cry now, tom? i pressed on. is it the residual of banging my head too many times against a glass wall?


it's good. it means you're experiencing things. deeply. allowing yourself the experience. probably in part what makes you a good actor. 


ah yes, that acting thing that i don't really talk about.

tom, sometimes i ask my gut things, i admitted sheepishly. and i know to listen to the answer that comes back. always, i must listen. because my gut is the wisest and truest part of me. it is the part of me that's lived a thousand lives already, that knows everything, that sees everything, that sees the end before it's even begun. it is my inner shaman. it is where God resides. my gut is a little piece of divinity. people say true love resides in the heart, but i know better. and so, well, Tom, i've been resisting asking my gut this  question--this question of "should i act" because i'm afraid of the answer. i'm afraid it will say no. and that will be that. 


it's a funny thing when you're life turns out different then you thought. a hard thing. when everything you've planned for shifts and morphs and you fall down the rabbit-hole. and it's terrifying. and not so nearly mystical as alice led you to believe. and you wonder if it's time to move on or circle round and there are so many options and that hall with doors is long and and those doors are aplenty and you can't imagine which one to walk through so you just stand there. frozen. terrified.

i asked the question recently, tom. whether or not i should act? i asked my gut. and the thing is... it didn't say no. it didn't return with the verdict i lived in fear of and yet...it didn't really give an answer at all. it told me i was afraid. and that that fear was getting in the way. but that that was okay. that i'd figure it out and it'd be okay. i'd be okay. 


and tom looked at me, kinda smiled and said, it believes in you so much it doesn't have to answer. it believes in you to the point that it'll go wherever you choose. it actually believes you can do anything--acting or not. 


i looked at tom in all of his infinite wisdom, felt fresh tears hovering at their own brink, turned my head and looked straight ahead, and said, well, that's a lovely thought. 


when what i really meant was well, that's everything isn't it. 


graduating from college was an exercise in losing faith. losing that little kernel of belief in my own ability. and as well as i am and far as i've come, i've yet to regain that.

so imagine my surprise when sitting in tom's office yesterday i realized it wasn't lost at all. it was there. patiently waiting for me to awaken to it.

and imagine my surprise when i came to understand that the one person i'd spent all this time fighting against, railing against--myself--simply loved me all the while--never grew impatient or frustrated. never accused me of being selfish or cruel. the one person who's love was infinite and almighty. who loved me with the power and force of the heavens.

alright. mark it down. december 14, 2010: the day i realized everything was gonna be just fine.

plodding.

i couldn't get out of bed yesterday morning. the king of can't-get-out-of-bed where you feel like if you do you'll end up losing yesterday's lunch or find yourself collapsed on the bathroom floor. 

so i didn't. get out of bed. not really.

in fact the only things i accomplished yesterday was the chipping away at the bags under my eyes (as seen in the antler picture {sigh}), stringing the bottom half of my tree, scaring the ups delivery man (that's another story) and brushing my teeth. i was a sorry sight. it was a sorry day. 

but today: i'm up. the laundry is in the dryer. and i've already managed to shower. 

progress. 

and as i go about my day, getting all the many things done despite my desire to hide under the covers, i will allow the christmas decorations to spur me on--to keep me plodding about the manhattan streets. 

perhaps i'll count how many christmas trees i come across today...

to be alive at all is to have scars.

john steinbeck

a nook in the woods (i wish).

i'd like to escape to a little cabin in the woods today. 

to sleep. and sit. and drink. to feel the sunshine peeking through the canopy of trees. 

that is all: a little escape is my wish for the day (or maybe just a little more sleep).

photo by old chum on flickr

books and their nooks.

i slept last night. long and hard. 

and when i finally awoke this morning it was to the sound of pounding rain. pouring rain. pitter-patter-tap-tap-tapping rain.

glorious, glorious rain.

so i literally rolled out of bed taking my white duvet with me, cracked the window, and moved the reading chair just in front. 

and there i sat. with my book. listening and watching and feeling the cool, damp breeze.

and i gave thanks that i asked for both rain boots and an umbrella for christmas. because there's nothing quite like trying navigate the eccentricities of a new york rainstorm if you're ill prepared. 

and then i opened my book and disappeared. into another world. into another life.

i haven't read a book since late last may. i wasn't able to this summer. picked up many, but just couldn't do it. and so it continued through until now, december. a six month reading block. and knowing this period must come to a close i picked up a book that i'd read before. and decided to begin there.

and suddenly, with book in hand, the train ride seems bearable. and waking up on sunday mornings to a world of white seems poignant: a blank canvas to fill with a story between my hands.

don't ever let me go this long again without falling into a book. i'm a far better person when i'm living in two worlds--this one and the one gifted to me by an author with imagination and empathy. 

fed: product placement

i woke up exhausted this morning. so exhausted that after i poured my first cup of coffee, i left the coffee maker on, knowing i might go back for a second.

today will be hard. the hardest day of the week. from job number one to job number two. all day. and i will be wiped. and when i reach this level of exhaustion i tend to overeat. i know this now. i didn't know this before. i'd be eating and eating and eating and think, why am i eating? and after a lot of work and the help of some very smart people i was able to identify that i sometimes mix the signals (read: very often mix the signals). in fact, i would say, eighty percent of the time when i'm overeating and i'm not sure why (meaning it's not anxiety or fear or trying to push away some uncomfortable emotion--or the inevitable i'll-eat-more-because-i've-already-eaten-so-much guilt) it is exhaustion or thirst. crossed-wires if you will.

so today i just know that i need to be aware. and a little careful.

i've already promised myself a cab ride home tonight (ah, the luxury) and a saturday morning of sleeping in for however long i'd like--the promise of these things will help me avoid any kind of a meltdown (i hope).

but until then i'd thought i'd share some products i really like--products that taste good, make me feel good, and keep me on a healthy track.

i'm a snacker. this much you should know. if given the chance, i'd nosh on snacks always. so, many of these fall into that snack category...




when i get that urge for chocolate, instead of reaching for the bag of m&ms' i head to whole foods for these bad boys. because then i satisfy the chocolate craving and sneak a little fruit in a long the way: goji berries! (i also enjoy the chocolate covered mulberries). be forewarned: they are very expensive (like 4 dollars for a bag) but i don't get them everyday.

i love these chik'n patties. they make for such an easy lunch or dinner. put on a bun, bagel, or bread of any kind with a little ketchup, they satisfy the burger queen within. i despise (despise!!) any kind of faux meat products made from soy, which these are not. on a side note: if in new york city and in need of a good veggie burger i suggest 5 napkin burger or hillstone {known as houston's almost anywhere else in the country}.

i love the texture of barbara's oatmeal snackimals. animal crackers with a twist, i say!

remember when i made my infamous ice cream pie? i used four ice cream pints--three of which were stonyfield nonfat frozen yogurt. they taste quite good and the plain and vanilla and chocolate variety have only 100 calories per serving (meaning the whole pint is only 400 calories). now, let me be clear, i don't believe in counting calories--in fact, i loathe it and find it damaging. but when i bring a pint of ice cream home--there is always the chance i might eat the whole thing in one sitting (i know, i know, i'm working on it). but with these bad boys, when i eat the whole thing at least i know i haven't done some huge disservice to my body. 

have you had pop chips yet? i love them (most especially the sea salt and vinegar variety!). unlike most low calorie foods these bad boys pack a punch and don't leave that odd and elusive empty taste in your mouth.



alrighty, that's all for now. happy snacking! (ignore the strange layout--i struggle when working with small images).