it's the end of another year,
the time when everyone gets all reflective about their
lives, relationships, personal accomplishments.
i know quiet a few people who are struggling, including myself.
some more than others, but really, it's all relative.
and i always remind myself that everyone, everyone, everyone is fighting a hard battle.

i'm personally thankful to have completed a whole year here in new jersey.
to have made it through a whole year at work.
which caused me so much distress and pain and humiliation.
but i survived. i almost quit half way. exactly 6 months into it.
turned in my resignation letter, got an interview in another department and all.
but i have proven to be a valuable part of the organization, and mountains were moved for me to stay.
and so i did. and things are better.
its not the best job or the easiest, but at least i can breathe.

i have survived not just the work itself, but the effort it takes to even get there.
which is a battle all on its own.
i think charles bukowski best writes about this in this poem:

gamblers all

sometimes you climb out of bed in the morning and you think,
I'm not going to make it, but you laugh inside
remembering all the times you've felt that way, and
you walk to the bathroom, do your toilet, see that face
in the mirror, oh my oh my oh my, but you comb your hair anyway,
get into your street clothes, feed the cats, fetch the
newspaper of horror, place it on the coffee table, kiss your
wife goodbye, and then you are backing the car out into life itself,
like millions of others you enter the arena once more.

you are on the freeway threading through traffic now,
moving both towards something and towards nothing at all as you punch
the radio on and get Mozart, which is something, and you will somehow
get through the slow days and the busy days and the dull
days and the hateful days and the rare days, all both so delightful
and so disappointing because
we are all so alike and so different.

you find the turn-off, drive through the most dangerous
part of town, feel momentarily wonderful as Mozart works
his way into your brain and slides down along your bones and
out through your shoes.

it's been a tough fight worth fighting
as we all drive along
betting on another day.

sigh.
besides that.
i have survived a year of being away from my
family and friends.
family and friends.
family and friends.
without whom life is difficult to get through.

most importantly, i survived being a mother.
but actually i shouldn't say i "survived" it
because sofia is the one reason that keeps me going through all of this.
and so i thank her and her dad. thank you.
thank you. my loves.

and i thank you, you who reads these posts of mine and looks at my pictures
and even find it in the least bit interesting.
thank you for being a witness to this, this tired existence i call my life.

but i digress.

i really just wanted to share this song with you:

what a joy it is to be alive
to get another chance, yeah
everyday's another chance
to get it right this time
everyday's another chance
oh what a merciful, merciful, merciful God
oh what a wonderful, wonderful, wonderful God

i gotta find peace of mind - lauryn hill

my awesome friend {homegirl for life} karen took some photographs of our home when they spent a weekend here this past august. i was really surprised when she showed them to me because i had no idea she was documenting the place and it was a mess.. (as always).

but this is why i love her: she's amazing. her style is always fresh and she always has a different angle on things, both in life and her art. she can capture beauty and reality all at once. which is difficult since reality isn't always beautiful. but she's got something not many people have. she captures glimpses of time. her photographs draws you in and requires a meditative pause. and she does this all the time, each moment different from the other. she is thoughtful and she can make your heart swell. what can i say, i'm one lucky b. to have her in my life.

visit her journal. she captures the best bits of life.

she can take your portraits too :)

http://www.kveephotography.com/

{thanks homie g. you & i are gonna have some major tea + dessert time next month!}

i caught "the radiant child" streaming on netflix, which is, coincidentally, also currently showing at the film forum downstairs from where i work. anyhow its the documentary on jean-michel basquiat. i've never heard of him til now and i found his artistic life intriguing. he started out as a street artist in new york around the 80s. from there he became famous in the art scene and even had ties with warhol. he overdosed on drugs at 27.
this a pretty succinct biography.

this painting sold for $6 million.

5 senses friday
(via abbytriesagain )

i recently discovered abby's blog, which is so inspiring! i thought this a great idea.

tasting:

whole wheat bagel with egg, cheese, and avocado

smelling:

lavender and wild flowers shea butter

seeing:

going to the park and watching the orange purple sunset with sofie everyday

hearing:

every time i go outside for a walk i play this song,
j'suis pas d'ici by thomas dutronc

feeling:

soft soaped

choons

ms. lauryn hill, finally!





we missed you too.
(pictures from brooklyn vegan)






now i understand.

radiolab

I've been listening to Radiolab these past couple of days and I'd experience moments of revelation for every single episode. And I mean hair-rising, eyes opening wide, moments of stillness and silence in my mind. I'd feel at ease. I learn something new every time. Like how I used to feel when I went to school, except this happens right here, at work, one after another every 15 minutes or so. I go on autopilot at work, but my mind is completely somewhere else. I am able to be in two places at once, and I feel like I am cheating the system (whatever system that may be).

I just wanted to share this with you.

Things Remembered

via Things We Forget: #542

my friends & i did a lot of jumping off of cliffs in our day.

which reminds me...

karen & i were supposed to start a project like this a while back.
definitely one of the things we forgot.