a good start to the week. a really good start, actually.

When you find a man
Who transforms
Every part of you
Into poetry,
Who makes each one of your hairs
Into a poem,
When you find a man,
Capable,
As I am
OF bathing and adorning you
With poetry,
I will beg you
To follow him without hesitation,
It is not important
That you belong to me or him
But that you belong to poetry.  


When You Find a Man
by Nizar Qabbani 


translation by Bassam K. Frangieh
and Clementina R. Brown









(this morning i awoke to this in my inbox. and i thought (1) georgette, you are a goddess, because indeed it was georgette who sent it to me and (2) can you imagine how sexy the poem must be in the original arabic? {it's always better in the original tongue}). 


{oh yes, and just so you know. today i'm up much too early, sneaking in a few minutes for myself before the day begins in ernest. i'm dancing around to david gray's  lately and offering up a silent prayer of thanks that for the time being i make more than enough poetry for myself. (and that i still get to look forward to meeting the man who will transform that poetry, because holly hell there is just so much to look forward to in this life.).}

friday. how did we get here?

somehow this week got away from me. i chock it up to a few things: 1. another foot (at least) of snow pounding down on the city 2. the realization that these allergies keep my brain working at half-speed (if that)--i'm doing things now like washing my face with shampoo (painful. don't try) and 3. the slow ticking of things off of my life to-do list.

it is this last thing that keeps me going. reminds me why i've remained in this city. small steps, slow steps.

i'll announce the giveaway winner on monday. i can't thank you all enough for the kind and encouraging response. my heart swells at your kindness. and i owe you each a debt of gratitude for your goodness.

for now i leave you with my version of eye-candy... (and the promise {or hope} of some more interesting posts next week.

photo credit:

original sources  found here

dear new york,

all this snow?

it's just that...

well...

i just think...

it's...




i'm utterly exhausted.


enough for now, yes?




love,

the girl with really bad winter (who knew?) allergies

dear husband-to-be,

i don't like sushi.

okay, well, it's not that i don't like it...it's just... that there are so many other types of food i'd rather have. and because i'm a girl and i unfortunately can't eat until kingdom come, i get to be choosy about this. and so i'd rather have something else.

and yes, i've tasted good sushi. so, no, it's not that.

and i know this makes me far less cool. far less hip. but i've made peace with that, i'll live. (heck, i just used the word hip, which means i probably never was to begin with).

that's all. for now.


hint: i love pizza. and a good veggie burger? huzzah. thai, yes please.

love, love,
your food-loving-lady

nakate (and my little-blogspot-lover's first giveaway ever).

i've never done a giveaway here before because it never felt like it was quite time. but when shanley, a one woman wonder who's changing the world, came to me with her new project nakate, i was in. 

"I went to Uganda this past summer to document the work of an aid organization in the Luwero district, which is off the main highway running through Uganda to southern Sudan. I spent several days focusing on Kakooge, a village almost completely wiped out by AIDS in the past few decades. The families left are struggling intensely: many mothers left alone with children, wrecked by polygamy, without hope, many fathers that openly wept when speaking to me, saying that they could not feed their children, that they were too weak from the disease to work. 

I discovered, while there, that there was no market for wares in the village. Even those who were strong enough to work couldn't find sustainable occupations. I struggled, especially, with the way the women in the village were fighting to feed their families and were often brutally mistreated or taken advantage of in the process.

I had heard that people that had traveled to Uganda on medical missions had brought back beads from Kakooge, and I sought out the women who made them with my guide. I found that many of them were depending on the beads to pay their children's school fees, their rent, buy food, etc. but that sales were sporadic, and couldn't be counted on. I brought back a huge bag of beads intending to make sales more regular, and met Emily, who was finished up her MBA and had a heart for helping the impoverished. Together, we set up the Nakate Project, which sells the necklaces online, and at parties held by volunteers in our area. We pay the women back three times what they could make within the country, and use the rest of the money to invest in business opportunities for them in Kakooge, in effort to bring a sustainable market back in the area."

one lucky blog reader will receive the kaunna necklace. 

in order to enter please visit nakate and leave a comment below. 

for more chances to win, tweet or blog about the project and then leave an additional comment letting me know. the giveaway will close thursday at midnight--i will choose a winner at random on friday morning. 


i hope you all are as excited as i am--it's for such a great and worthy cause! happy monday!

second listening.

when i was in high school the dixie chicks did a cover of landslide that was all over the radio. i remember i'd hear it driving to and from school and i didn't particularly care for it.

but listening to this today. to the slow melody and simplicity it of it, i hear it all so differently. i understand the words--both their heartbreak and hope. and in hearing it differently i am aware of how i am different--changed, more expansive.

how funny (or perhaps fitting) it is that something like a song can be a touchstone in our life. illuminating the space between and all the path already traversed.

thoughts for a friday.

whatever does not pretend at all has style enough. booth tarkington. 



the very first moment i beheld him, my heart was irrevocably gone. jane austen.



you don't love people at their best, sweetheart. you just love them because you can't help it. amy lane.




we can never judge the lives of others, because each person knows only their own pain and renunciation. it's one thing to feel that you are on the right path, but it's another to think that your's is the only path. paulo coelho. 



i am only responsible for my own heart, you offered yours up for the smashing my darling. only a fool would give out such a vital organ. anais nin.



any man who can drive safely while kissing a pretty girl is simply not giving the kiss the attention it deserves. albert einstein. 




photos.
(post in the style of una bella vita).


on monday: a giveaway--the first! prepare yourself...

FED: it's all in the family.

the other night when i called home i was chatting away with my mother when she suddenly became distracted.

your father's throwing acai berries at me, she explained.

i love this for so many reasons. for the fact that my parents still have fun together--think of it, flying food as proof of love!--and also because they were actually eating acai berries--oh how far we've all come since the days of oreos after dinner.

when i first began to uproot my eating patterns--cutting out meat, eating goji berries and mulberries, seeking out fair-trade foods and eco-concious restaurants--my meat and potato parents viewed this all a little wearily--or, at least, i feared they would.

(let me be clear: as a child i ate white bread. i pitied those forced to endure whole-wheat--oh the deprived childhoods they must lead, i thought.)

there's nothing harder than totally changing your eating habits and not having the support of those around you--so calling home and knowing my parents were eating chocolate covered acai berries--knowing that they're not just supportive in their words but in their actions--that is not lost on me. i realize that's not the norm. and i feel so unbelievably lucky.

in other (but related) news: i finally pulled out my babycakes cookbook and whipped up some vegan/gluten-free/sugar-free (it's sweetened with agave) banana bread. while finding some of the ingredients in whole foods proved tricker than usual, actually putting it all together was a breeze. and it was good--moist and good. and quickly eaten up when i offered it up to our version of craft-services on my last day of shooting.

book club (vlog follow-up) .

book club selection: the guernsey literary and potato peel pie society. 

my reasoning: i've actually read this book before i adored it in every possible way. it's a quick and easy read that both charms and moves. i find it perfectly fitting since it deals with a book club and the power of words--and lordy i can't wait till we sit down and talk about the power of words!

a note about the book club: if you haven't read the book--i still want you to come. but if you are so inclined to read it, please do (i promise it's lovely). this book club is meant to be a way to meet people (and know that on my first draft of this i spelled meet, meat. really?), stir-up discussion (and not just that pertaining to whatever we've just read). i have found in my nearly seven years in this city that it can be difficult to meet people--especially when they fall out of our normal circle of work or school or some such. so as long as you bring a smile (even if you're secretly terrified), then that's all i care about.

if you've emailed me: (and i haven't emailed back...) all of the emails are in a specific folder in my inbox and as soon as i figure out a location then you will be getting an email with details and a hop-stop direction guide!

let the discussion begin! this is what i had to say about the book last go round.

let's try something new:

giving thanks.

i spent the last four days shooting a short ten minute film. and so when i said i was heading into the belly of the beast of fear--it was in the best possible way. a really, really good forward (albeit, sometimes terrifying) movement. 

and when it was all said and done, and as i took the long subway home from queens, i thought, i have no words for this. it was not the failure of words, nor their inadequacy--simply the absence of them. it was a calm and peace and utter stillness--a gratitude that filled me, of such depth as i've never felt before. gratitude for the countless mistakes and failures that led me to this moment. gratitude for a story that was not easy or simple and certainly not over. 

perception

the other day i was talking with someone--doing (i'm sure) what i usually do where i tend to say too much and yet still remain ambiguous.

they turned to me, gave me a funny, little smile and said, you sure live an interesting life right now. 


i'm quite sure it was meant to be a slight dig--a loving and friendly dig, but a dig nonetheless.

but i just smiled and thought, yeah, it is pretty interesting, isn't it.

and i'm so very proud that it's just that: interesting. and yes, odd.

a thought. a gorgeous thought. by rilke of course.

"Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love." 






(the next few days i'm heading toward the belly of that fear so i beg your forgiveness for emails left untouched and the like. 
oh yes, and happy weekend.)

remember when i tweeted that one of my new year's resolutions was going to be to finally start a book club...

well...

1. it's amazing that i tweeted anything at all, because--let's be honest--i'm not a champion twitter-er.

and 2. i'm thinking if i actually make good on my tweet, then good things will surely follow.

so mark it down:

book club 

(yes, i'm calling it book club--just that--don't hate)

Sunday, February 13.

1:00 pm.

be there or be square. 

if you're in new york city (or nearby), please come. 

i don't want to hear any of this, oh i'm a stranger--she'll think i'm weird for showing up--yada, yada, yada. 

nonsense, i'm inviting you. and i expect you to be there. 

now the only question remaining: 

what shall be our first read?

suggestions, suggestions... (please).

{if you will be able to attend

please email me for directions

and details.}

photo: my friend vicky took and then tagged me 

this photo after posting it to facebook--

said it reminded her of me. 

that simple though simply made my day. 

she was twenty-one, for God's sake. she must be allowed to grow up. by the time they were her age, most of the heroines of literature had lived, loved and even died...if she wanted to be a heroine, it was time to start behaving like one.


robyn sisman

via. 

a snow-filled stroll through the park.

i found myself sobbing in central park last friday. big, loud walloping sobs as i plodded through the falling snow.

and it felt so damn good.

i cry often in new york. at the most inopportune times. in the strangest--and most public--of places. my saving grace is that i'm a quiet crier. small, silent tears.

but on friday, in the park, amongst all that snow and white and absolute quiet i unleashed some powerful sobs. it seemed safe there. as though all that space and white would quickly swallow them up.

it wasn't a sadness that prompted the tears. well, yes, i suppose it was sadness. but it was the sadness of someone else. a stranger. and a stunning display of humanity that i wasn't meant to see. and that person's unfurling stirred my own residual silt. and just exactly as new york was transformed into a snow-globe, i witnessed my own inner swirling. of past emotions--failings and frustrations and countless mistakes. and it seemed so dirty this inner silt. so dark, so different than the the white before me, the white beneath my feet.

but as i walked, and as i sobbed, i felt the dark pieces fall out of me. and no, i didn't look back. but i knew. knew the snow swallowed them whole.

for me snow, more than anything else, is about healing and rebirth.

i know you've been waiting for it. so without further ado...

i finally broke down and tried the green monster last night. because camilla's been raving so about it. and because during our phone conversation yesterday she delivered a swift blow to my achilles heel: i feel like my eyelashes have gotten longer, she said.

eyelashes? longer? oh man. 

and so i tried it because what i've really learned in the last three months is that all of this--health and nutrition and happiness and well...life is one grand experiment. trial and error. figuring out what works for you. 

there was a point just after thanksgiving when i wanted to stop physique. i'll just go back to the gym, i thought. the commute is too long. i'm getting worse! 

but i continued on. because in a moment of uncharacteristic wisdom i knew those thoughts to be passing. i'd hit a little wall. but soon enough i'd just plow on through it. 

and i did. 

i love going to class because for one hour each day nothing else exists outside that room. it is a time to be selfish in the most productive of ways. 

and yes, i imagine i look a little different. not impossibly so. but enough. 

but like i've said before, it's the benefits to my health, the desire to get better and stronger that keep me going back again and again. it's the fact that now when we get to the abs i can keep up. and the fact that i no longer struggle with pain in my back. it's increased bone density (and while i can't see or feel this i'm told that it's true). 

after three months i don't have the body of kelly ripa. but then again i've got like a foot on her, so i probably never will. 

i'm stronger and happier. and so i'll continue on (even if i risk standing next to a radio city rockette and feeling....just so much less). it's the mental end that really does it for me. the gift of getting better and ticking off small accomplishment after small accomplishment. 

paper-airplane love note.

she wanted to shout out across the room to him.

i know, she wanted to say. i know i'm not good at this.

she needed to be heard above the people and commotion and muddled hysteria.

needed to cast her voice out. a fishing-line of wanting.

i'm not good at this. and i know i'm making it hard.
i know that we meet each time anew. each day, as strangers. 
but it's because i'm terrified. and enthralled. 
exhilarated, even. 
and i don't know... what...you are.
and yes--yes, of course!--i want to swim in your unknown. but i need you to invite me. to reach for my hand, grasp for my hand--feelingly--and pull me in. 


that's what she would say. if ever she found her voice.

photo.

clarification. and a little honesty.

okay. i'm gonna try something new here. i'm gonna be really candid. really honest.

(that was a joke. did you get it? you know, because i'm probably too honest sometimes? oh phooey, if you didn't get it that's on you).

no but really. i wasn't going to share this next bit. not because i'm ashamed of it. but because it was singular to me. because it never really crossed my mind that it was important. it was just a detail. a footnote.

and yet. maybe it is important. maybe it'll help elucidate things. provide some sort of foundation so that when i talk about weight and health and eating disorders you know where i'm coming from.

i gained forty pounds over the course of my eating disorder. 

yes. that's right. forty. forty pounds.

that's a fair amount. a nice little hole i dug for myself.

i tell you this because i need you to know that in getting healthy it wasn't just about finding a balance and figuring out some sort of normalcy--i had forty (count 'em, forty) pounds to lose, give or take a few.

have i lost them all? not a chance.

do i still have a fair amount to go? you betcha.

and i know i still have weight to lose not because of some number on a scale but because i'm carrying a little extra weight in my middle. and extra weight in the middle is not good for the heart. and since coronary heart disease is the leading cause of death for women in this country...well, i want my heart to be healthy.

what i'm trying to say is this: whether you need to lose five pounds, ten, two hundred, absolutely none, or actually gain weight, the process is not really that different. eat good food. real food. listen to your body. exercise. make good, positive choices everyday. and for the love of all that is good and holy in this world: don't diet. don't count calories. don't restrict. instead educate yourself and make smart choices. it's the little things--by eating real food and listening to your body--the body'll actually figure it out--at what weight it is most healthy.

and yes, it might take five years to lose all the extra weight, and yes, that can be frustrating--but it's frustrating for our egos, for our vanity, not for our bodies.

i feel like i've done a terrible job explaining myself in this post.

it's just that...all the stuff i say about food and health...those things are coming from someone who is acutely aware of the need to actually lose weight for the sake of my health.

does that make sense?

one of many small and tangible resolutions...

the scale i own is sitting in a bag next to the door waiting for a goodwill pick-up.

that was one of my new year's resolutions: rid my room of the scale.

to be fair i never really used it. once or twice in the past year, maybe. instead i would find it stored away in strange places like in my suitcase or sandwiched in a storage bin under my bed--such is the life of a new yorker where there's never enough space and storage is a commodity.

so while i never used it, i'd every so often unearth the thing.

and i'd feel it taunting me, climb on, it would say. let's play--let's have some real down-home-fun. 


i got the thing my freshman year of college when this disaster (i mean, adventure?) began and i still thought that the measure of one's health (and thus subsequent worth) was determined by the three numbers the scale offered up to me.

now in my old-age and generally-aknowledged (ahem) wisdom i know better. my health is the culmination of countless factors--many of which i can't control. but i know when i'm eating well. and i know when i'm exercising. and i don't need a scale to measure those things. so ipso-facto-ergo...what use have i for this antiquated device? scales provide the surface amount of information. they hint at things. like health. but they aren't the end-all-be-all.

i remember seeing something on a blog once about bus-stop benches in sweeden? norway? denmark?--some progressive european country. as a way to discourage obesity they had taken to measuring the weight of the seated person and projecting that number up above. i know what you're thinking: shocking, appalling, the wrong approach, right?

well...maybe a bit misguided but the more i thought about it the more i realized the number projected is simply that: a number.

our outrage stems from the shallow notion that weight is the ultimate end. in our culture each number comes with a stigma--an emotional attachment. bridget jones tells me that 140 is an unacceptable number. whereas, when i'm at 140 i border on looking way-too-thin. i see tweets all the time--people saying they're this tall and this is their goal number because that's how tall so-and-so is and that's how much they weigh. but weight sits differently on different people. we truly cannot compare our body to anyone else's--it's not fair, not healthy, and a really ridiculous benchmark.

maybe what we need to work on before we can worry about lowering the number that's flashing above us is detaching the number from the story we've assigned to it. it's just a number, that's all. and yes, it provides us with some information--but it's such a small slice of the pie.

when i started physique i looked leaner almost immediately and the number on the scale increased by more than a few pounds. oh wait, this was mean to be a physique update, no?

okay, okay, that'll come this afternoon...

the post that didn't happen today. and left us with this.

i was going to do a post today entitled:

physique 57: the three month update


because yes, i've been doing it for three months. can you believe that? i can't. it feels like weeks. or years. but not three months.

and the post was going to be a fed (and remission of ned) update. because they're all connected--exercise and food and mental acuity, or some such.

but alas. the post did not happen.

and i'm sitting here typing this with a bag of ice under my left foot wondering if i have a deeply pulled muscle in the ball of my foot. or if it's a stress fracture. and please God, don't let it be a stress fracture.

(and maybe i have some cream on my upper lip to curb the encroaching female lip hair {read: mustache}). too much sharing? oh man, i'm never gonna find someone willing to tolerate this crazy.

and the laundry that i was meant to do a week ago is just now in the washer.

i'm thinking at the end of this month i might throw a party just to celebrate january's inevitable end (and it is inevitable, right?).

that is all for today. pathetic, i know.

i leave you with a gratuitous self-portrait. (because i read somewhere that people who constantly take photos of themselves end up looking the best on camera because they learn all their angles and how to be confident and yada, yada, yada...and because i have this thing (read: tremendous fear) of having my picture taken i've been working on it...

anywhoo.

see you back here tomorrow for the physique update?

i know, i know, what can i say? i just can't get enough of them.

(begin around 4:40)

rivers and roads

the head and the heart

my brother and i are gonna see them this february up in boston and i couldn't be more excited. (maybe it was my christmas gift to him. and maybe it was my christmas gift to myself). 

{and maybe i have a girl crush on the blonde}.

getting to know manhattan.

new york was awash in tourists this holiday season. and when i say new york i really mean midtown--for it is midtown to which the tourists flock. to see the tree at rockefeller center. to see times square and its countless billboards. to see the lights and tall buildings. 

and i get it. i do, i get it.  and yet a part of me wants to shout out to them: no, this is not it. not here. this is not new york!

you know that scene in funny face where audrey hepburn sneaks off to an underground cafe? and it's dark and infused with smoke and she dances wildly to beatnik music surrounded by frenchmen wearing berets? well. take away the smoke. and transplant it here across the atlantic. and well, i suppose that's the new york i'm always in search of. 

(when in new york i want to eat at  restaurants i'll find nowhere else in the world. and see things that will never be replicated on some las vegas strip).

but i suppose that says more about me than the city. 

you know where i'd tell the tourists to go? where i'd suggest you might explore?  the parks. to riverside. and fort tryon. to central park, yes. and the conservatory gardens. and as of today, inwood hill.

my lovely friend kate and i headed to inwood (the northern-most part of manhattan) to wander around it's 196.4 acres (which they say looks not so different than when peter minuet bought the island from the dutch all those years ago). i've always wanted to go but been hard pressed to find a friend willing to make the trek. not kate. she was up to it--she's always up for a little adventure (and it certainly doesn't hurt that she's one of the funniest and most intelligent friends i have). 

the park was aglow with orange. snow still on the ground. and the hudson glimmering in the distance. and all city, you know? still new york. still manhattan. 

kate pointed out deer tracks and we talked as girls do who haven't seen each other in a year. and january got a little bit better. and manhattan gets cell service everywhere (even in the middle of a natural forest). 

the girl with the patchwork heart: a story (a hope)

sometimes she could feel it coming towards here before she ever saw it.
she would feel the rattle in her bones, look up and watch it approach.
a swift sweep across the horizon. a runaway train.
coming for her.
and she was helpless.
simply had to stand there and await its impact.
such was attraction.
most of the time she could ferret it out before it overwhelmed her.
she learned to read the signs.
dark curls of the hair. mischievous sidelong-glances. brooding dispositions. a kindred sadness. long eyelashes and deep-set eyes. strong hands and broad shoulders.

but this. this was altogether something new. different.
this had caught her totally by surprise.
she turned around one day and there it was.

he was good.
it was his goodness.
palpable. quietly radiating.
simple and pure.
and she wanted to touch it.
she wanted to reach out.
place palm against chest and feel it.
to know it with her fingertips.

but she knew.
wherever--however the attraction began.
despite pure intentions and good beginnings it carried in it the seeds of great heartbreak.
and she had loved so often. outwardly. in so many directions at once.
been forced to patch her heart together with nothing but scraps of twine and discarded threads.
and so she couldn't imagine.
couldn't imagine how heartbreak was not the inevitable end.

so she closed her mouth. stopped talking. bent her head as he approached.
tried desperately to preserve what little she had.

and yet.
she wondered.
if he might show her.
an alternate ending.

photo.

january plows (bulldozes, rather) on.

it was not a great day. i won't bore you with the details (because in the grand scheme of thing--they're all just details) but let's just say: it. was not. a great. day.

it certainly doesn't help that i got a wee of a pinpoint headache two days before the new year which grew and grew and grew and then seemed to explode on the first of january. but with a little medicine and a good night of sleep it passed.

but alas it appeared again. this morning. on the opposite side.

i get these headaches  at the back of my head to the right and the left of the occipital joint. (yup, i said occipital joint--that's juilliard schooling for you, i did learn some impressive things).

go ahead and google search pinpoint headaches. occipital pinpoint headaches, at that. and see how you feel after reading some of the literature out there. (this is why doctors tell patients not to google. and not to panic).

so i'm not panicking. because it's probably just stress. (and january).

yup, it's probably just january.

because perhaps the things that made today so... very-not-good... will--in the end--prove bountiful blessings:

the gift of time. the impetus to move on from relationships that are no longer meaningful. the courage to take risks.

time will tell. and tomorrow is a new day.

(and yes, i dare say january is the practice-round for the rest of the year--it's okay if it's something of a disaster. in fact, why not fail a lot now?).

2011 (two day update).

you think i'd be worried about 2011.

based on its auspicious beginnings.

like opening my closet saturday morning to falling storage containers and the fear of a broken collar bone. or leaving the grocery store only to realize several blocks later that i'd left the groceries behind. then there was the falling down the entrance steps of my apartment building. and the loss of one of my favorite earrings. all this and the seeds of minor heartbreak (from afar, no less--and most likely imagined {the worst and most cowardly of all }).

but i'm not worried. no siree.

i'm gonna chock all this up to january. (january and i have never been friends).



okay. okay. i'ts all a-okay.