boy howdy.

i could use some southern drawl in my life right now. 

trip, anyone? 

all mankind are now your brothers.

the truth: i work in a spaceship and yesterday i saw that humanity is still really, really good.

the rest: let me back that statement train up a couple of weeks and fill you in on what has happened in this sweet life. summer ended (goodbye drooping 9-5 workdays that substitute summer for this lady!) autumn came (hello afternoon walks through orange and red!) and school started (for the last time, for a long time, forever!). (beautiful the way that life unfolds in such an uncomplicated sentance, right?) 

the classes that i had signed up for this quarter were the *yawns*bores*snoozes*droops*uninspiring kinds of classes. they were chunks of time that i would sit in a classroom. they were hours that i would feign interest. they were a waste. (i'm so sorry to anybody who loves to learn about the way that literature relates to patterns that could have at one point in time lined up with marx's ideas of systematic understanding, i'm really glad that you enjoy this. not my cup of tea.) certainly i could do it, pass, move on with my bad self. but really? that's how i'm going to live? come on, michelle, you're more in love with life than that passivity.

so i began to look into different options. i could drop out of school (let's be honest, the fact that i signed my graduation papers last week is just a big joke). i could start school over (might be fun?). i could suck it up. or  i could find a way to get credit for doing something outside of the classroom. bingo.

it dawned on me:  if the opportunity presented itself, i could find a way to do something that actually inspires me. i could do something that makes my heart beat in anticipation. i could do something worth-while. i could write. and help. and teach. i could do THAT! somehow i found the door, i had the key, and i opened that little thing right up.

i am currently interning at this incredible nonprofit organization, 826 Seattle. it lights up my life and fuels my soul. 

as i spent all of yesterday running around the city to different grocery stores, trying to get donations so that the children can have a snack when they come to after-school tutoring, i was struck with something i haven't seen in a long time: a gold-hearted humanity. i hate asking for money. i hate soliciting. it makes me uncomfortable and i am stubborn. but yesterday, as i trailed through the city, as i met managers and assistant managers and employees, i was blown away by the kindness i saw. they cared. and that, to me, is more inspiring than any class i will ever sit in.

life's going to change a lot these next couple of months. but for now, i revel in the fact that sometimes, in some child or some piece of writing or some grocery story manager, there is good in the world. all mankind, we're all brothers.

ya'll are fancy!

we got fancy. i mean-- fancy. we donned our black dresses and heels. we walked the red carpet. we ate truffle oil and lobster macaroni in a place dripped with diamond-studded peacock feathers and black-lace chandeliers. invite only. black and white apparel. yes, that kind of gala.

and then we dipped into the free stoli. and a couple dirty martinis later... we tested how many people you can fit into a photo booth, made friends with the media, and danced our way down broadway passing out peacock feathers to all.

turns out life is really fun. like, ridiculously fun.

m + a

the new house is... (how can i describe the new house in a way that will evoke calmness+excitement+enthrallment+brilliance+laughs+snuggles+drinks+cooking+shock+gasp+music+art+happiness+more+more+more all at the same time?)...magic. my cheeks hurt from smiling so much. my eyes are tired from so much fun. my fingers have a constant garlic tinge to them (so much cooking!). needless to say. it's magic.

and you know what else is magic? the flannel scarf i have on today (thanks, karine!), the pumpkin beer i drank last night, the tights i had to wear yesterday.... this autumn crispness really crisps my life up. in a good way. yes, a very good way.

xoxo. all my magic+autumn love.

oh, ps. have i mentioned? this is the view from our new home....

tee hee! <3

the move.

it's always so odd to approach the end of an era. you have been living in it for so long that it has become the normal.....you forget what it's like to move forward. but at the same time you are anticipating the future so strongly.... you forget what it's like to live in the present.

it's that melancholy nostalgia that really bites you....


this past year has been one of living alone in a beautiful gingerbread-house apartment building. it's been independent, proving to myself that "hell yes i can live alone and thrive!" it's been one of parties and plans and go-go-go-never-miss-a-beat-always-running-to-the-next-thing-because-there's-always-the-next-thing-and-no-time-to-rest-must-fit-it-all-fun (phew, that sentence exhausted me!). it has been a beautiful year, and i owe so much of that to my stunning home.

photo by Allison O'Connor: http://urbanresearch.wordpress.com/

it's odd for me to be at a loss of words about everything that this gingerbread house was to me... but i am. i don't know how to describe to you how it built me, helped me grow, helped me mature, made me wiser. i don't know how to evoke the emotions that came with that dim lighting, that stained glass, that blue floor, that clawfoot tub. i'm unsure how to convey to you the beauty of this year. it was warm. it was solitary. it was good.

photo by Allison O'Connor: http://urbanresearch.wordpress.com/

 

and thus, while i am at a loss of how to writalize (verbalize? but in writing? get it? oh god i'm sleep deprived) this place to it's fullest, i know this much: i'll carry this with me to the next era. i'll carry these things (so many things!) and this feeling and these memories and stories and moments. gingerbread house, you've been lovely, but it's time for me to go. and here i go!

because change is good. and beautiful. and exhilarating. and refreshing.

and thus, it is on to the next era. upward. onward. the forward move. i raise my glass to karina and erin and jill and emily and sophie and sean who will be my lovely roommates this year, cheers to my best friends. i raise my glass to our 3.5 story home and view and jacuzzi and balconies and fireplace and sunroom and chandelier. clink*clink*cheers*cheers!

we smile. we look around. and then we say, "this will be our year, took a long time to come."

i've got the spins.

i love when i look down at my left wrist and see the small streak of pink, that scratch still healing in its tenderness. you know the one? the day that my brother and i did a photoshoot in michigan... i defiantly fought gravity and climbed the apple tree, provoking scratches and smiles galore. that streak on my left wrist? well, it reminds me of home.

i love when i close my eyes to blink and they stay put for a full beat. you know that feeling? it is exhaustion at it's finest, begging me to prolong the blink just...as...long...as...possible. but, alas, through the heaviness of these weighed down eyelids comes the memories that make them such. why sleep when there are so many cheers to cheer, so many snuggles to snug, and so many giggles to gig? the ever-lasting blinks? well, they remind me of how happy i am.

i love when my phone battery wears itself out and withers away. certainly for one moment frustration shows his face, but frustration succumbs to more important things. it succumbs to being free of constant communication and to plans made by door-knocks. soon i am not thinking of the time or the text or the voicemail, but instead i am thinking of the present. when my phone dies? well, it helps me slow down.

i love when i eat spicy food and my lips tingle and burn. besides the fact that the taste running through my body is worth it in and of itself,  it also is so telling of how well my skin is clearing up. that burn? well, that reminds me that things are changing.

i love when i hop into mazey and after a couple of moments that daunting orange light comes on. "check engine," she screams. it is mystery so enticing-- what could it be? my guess? she's just a tired little thing from running around: airports and bellinghams and oregons galore. she must be tired. ok, my pretty lady, let's rest. when the check engine light goes on? well, it reminds me of where i've been.

sometimes you just a new spin on things.

<3

le petit été

it's the first day of summer.

it's fifty degrees.

it's the first day of summer school.

oui monsieur!

<3

tula.

to my travel buddy. to my giggle buddy. to my adventure buddy. to my personal weather man. to somebody who helps me see the world through ever-inspired eyes. to a dreamer and a changer and a transformer and a man of wisdom and knowledge. to a kid at heart. to someone who taught me to take the world by the hand and dance with it. to rice and raisins. to "well b's and g's." to cowboy songs. toby keith. sunday popcorn. apple fights. ROCKS. (to stealing rocks from places all over the world. shhhhh.) to somebody who inspires knowledge and craves learning. to nine fingers and clubbed thumbs. to traveling abroad. to a role-model and an unabashed life-lover.

to my dear papi-tula.

cheers to you on this father's day. i love you so.

sans int.

my internetability is limited to a few minutes these days. it's limited to the few minutes i'm at my friend's houses, to the few minutes i sit and sip coffee down the street, to a very few minutes.

i gots no internets at home!

(so sorry for the anti-updates.)

michigan.

when your sissy is home and your days are full and you're sick of school and you need a break.....

you just want to go home.

it's real?

we prance around street fairs.

we listen to family bands sing "wagon wheel."we cry.

we eat cheese.

we eat cheese cake.

we buy coolbars and surprise friends on balconies.

we barbeque in the sun.

we sing dolly and mariah and hall & oates.

we dance dance dance dance dance.

we dress up for masquerades in sequined barets and sun-hats and heart-glasses and fur hats and fur coats. we take pictures in the streets.

we a-bar.

we dance on rooftops and talk about family.

we are alive. alive. alive. alive. 

dear weekends like these,

please don't ever end. 

i love you.

-m

when squirrels enter.

got home last night from a party to a kitchen full of broken dishes.

"i think something was here?" oh well-- leave it for the morning light, leave it for tomorrow.

and with tomorrow now today, and with my lil' head resting for a nap, i hear a crash. a boom. a crush. a bang bang bang. up i jump (disturbed my nap!) in i run (it's a really long way from the bedroom to the kitch, ya know?) ready to attack.

and there he stands.

a squirrel. wreaking havoc on my life.

that bastard.

f-r-e-e-d-o-m

to repeat last post, i cannot wait for summertime clothes.

(they are going to look very very french indeed.)

t-minus five.

this week: spelling bees and cinco de mayo barbecues and fiestas and slow dances and kate nash concerts.

next week: CRAVE events and friend's concerts and street fairs.

the week after: relay for life and sister's birthdays.

the next: visits to bellingham visits to darling anne and robert campbell, those newly engaged lovebirds.

and just two little weeks after that: SUMMER.

It doesn't really matter, I'll go where you feel
Hunt for the breeze, get a midnight meal
I point in the windows, you point out the parks
Rip off your sleeves and I'll ditch my socks
 

We'll dance to the songs from the cars as they pass
Weave through the cardboard, smell that trash
Walking around in our summertime clothes,
Nowhere to go while our bodies glow
And we'll greet the dawn in its morning blues
With purple yawn, you'll be sleeping soon
 

And I want to walk around with you

she'll be comin' round the mountain when she comes (and repeat).

i'm playing* my banjo again.

*let's use this word liberally, ok? i pluck a few strings and get too excited to ever really learn anything because that twang just makes my heart pitter. 

the facebook cleanse.

i'm slightly ashamed to be writing this post. after all, i never thought that the necessity of admitting what i am about to admit would be a part of my life. i'm independent i'm in control i'm fun and classy and adventurous and honest and loving and private and confident....and i'm all of those things alone. i need no assurance. no reassurance. no steadfast appraisal. i need no "hell ya, little lady!" just me. ......but here i am, dumbfounded in the realization that i made the other day, stunned by the course my life had taken, and wallowing in the questions of "....or am i?" "...or do i?...."

this past weekend my eyes were opened to the fact that my facebook usage was getting out of hand.

really? me?

i'm not quite sure what to pin-point this unfortunate realization to....

perhaps it was the presumptuous necessity of filling my time. with an office job where very little is requested of me, it seems as though my fingers became proficient in the "refresh" button. with nothing else to do, this social network filled my time. check. get coffee. check. talk to erin. check. read email. check. and repeat.

perhaps it was the undeniable need to reward small tasks. you know, the "yes! i finished four pages of reading! i wonder what's happening in the online world!" rewarded for finishing four pages of reading? really?! im in college for god's sake.

perhaps it was the desire to always be busy, to feel the buzz, to know what's happening and what's happened and who is with who and who saw who and who knows who and who who who who who. the new laypersons gossip has replaced the celebrity hot topics. proud? nope.

perhaps it was the unfortunate fixation with the unanswered questions. those emotion-ridden questions that we are all too proud or too scared to ask. the ones of "but where did you go?" or "what in the world happened?" the questions that perhaps will always linger. the questions that you convince yourself will be answered if you just go online just one more time. proud? oh helllllll no.

or perhaps it was the need to constantly document witty remarks, inside jokes, hilarious banter between friends. (i'm actually sticking to this one, it's fun.) or to get ideas. or to give ideas. or to connect people. or to catch up with people. or to see pictures. or to chat. or to..... bullshit......

whatever the reason.....

i woke up this past sunday morning and began the normal morning routine: turn the alarm off, peek my eyes open to the waiting world, sigh a little "hello day" sigh, peel back the covers, roll over to the edge of the bed, reach down to the floor,  open the computer. oh. no. oh. no. oh hell hell no. this? routine? wake up. first thing. before you even TALK and check out the online world? not on my watch!

i caught myself. mid-act. my sanity walked in on my actions. there i was, hands up, jaw-dropped, about to check in on the "comments "posts" "likes" "requests" "what-have-yous" that are now part of our vocabulary. i was caught. i was haulted. and thank all there is to thank for that.

i want who i am to be who i am. i want what i say to be what i say. i want to be genuine. to be real. to be reachable and honest and true and imaginative and right and thoughtful and understood. to be full of the future and full of the present and full of the past.

so of course i won't cut this network out of my life (it ties me to too many friends and family and hilarious wit and banter and jokes that it is far too lovely to erase). i am grateful for the connection that it brings me with so many (especially in this vastly traveled world). but when i am caught in the all-enticing grasp that it seems to send out luring me in, when i have this sunday morning realization, i've just gotta take some time off for me.

i want to be contagiously alive with the vibrancy of life. contagiously alive. with real life. 

(can i quote macy gray here? is that appropriate? oh i do believe it is.) :) 

get up, get out 

and do somethin'

don't let the days of your life pass you by

you got to get up, get out

and do somethin'

how will you make it if you never even try? 

get up, get out

and do somethin'

can't spend your whole life tryin' to get high

you got to get up, get out

and do somethin'

'cause you and i have to do

for you and i 

mayday!

april showers bring may....

hats and scarves and peacoats and rain.....??

......wait a second.....

strawberry + rhubarb

baby, don't you cry

gonna make a pie

gonna make a pie with a heart in the middle

baby, don't be blue

gonna make for you 

gonna make a pie with a heart in the middle

gonna be sent from heaven above

gonna be filled with strawberry love

baby, don't you cry

gonna make a pie

and hold you forever in the middle of my heart. 

there is good in the world.

the truth is, that goodness still exists. astoundingly.

i am reminded of this as i attend concerts where mexican musicians gush over life's beauty, love's strength, and family's brilliance. they close their eyes and tears stream down their faces. they dance. they dance. they dance. their feet banging on la tarima in that rhythmic pulse-- one, two, ten, thirty of them all together on stage. oh, this goodness is strong.

i am reminded of this as i see a woman holding a blind man's hand across the street. she leaves him, continuing on her sunny-day run, and i pick up where she left off. his name is ken. his day is good. he is going to take the bus. let's take it together.

i am reminded of this as i listen to political debates and see the fire of "we need a just world" blazing in my beautiful friend's eyes. school and finances and youth don't stand in our way.

i am reminded of this as i listen to people laugh [oh how i love listening to people laugh]. their eyes squint in the brightness of the coming sun, their cheeks are red in the pain of too much laughter, their feet strolling in sync with their partners in crime [oh how i love listening to people laugh].

these days, the resounding goodness of humanity is really pushing me along.....

let's grow kindness in our hearts for all the strangers among us, 'till there are no strangers anymore.

life's direction.

i hope:

that i never have a collection of "work slacks."

that i never have email access on my cell phone.

that i never need to use a bluetooth for the purpose of multitasking.



but most of all....

i hope that i am never ever bored.

(so far so good.)

i was a dancer all along.

one, two, three, dream.

sometimes all i want to do is sing. 
throw my banjo over my knee and strum the days away. close these green eyes of mine and let the melodies fall upon themselves in the most rhythmic folds. they'll listen, little one. they will. 

sometimes all i want to do is bake.
this week my beautiful friend dawn gifted me three old fashioned pie plates; they are thick and metal and textured with names of old chicago pie companies on the bottom. they are beautiful. and are begging to be filled. they beg to be covered in the chilled crusts and slightly sweetened cherry cherry boom boom filling. yes. sometimes all i want to do is don one of my many aprons and bake bake bake the days away. 


and sometimes all i (don't) want to do is learn about the functioning sexuality of humans.
a slightly annoying desire has entered my field of dreams as i think about my future. michelle debruyn, sex therapist. (haha.) certainly this wish is a budding one, small in the shadows of music and baking, tiny in the way that my days seem to pass. but if it is true that one should do what they love, or do what they find most fascinating, then this new "all i want to do" might be apropos. in reality, it might just be the fact that i love saying to my best friends "DID YOU KNOW......?!" with all excitement and enthusiasm expanding their graduated minds into this odd world i live in right now. perhaps that's it, just spreadin' the knowledge. but maybe this dream is true. because i would love to describe to you the unusual practices that exist in the world, the anatomy of reproduction, accessory structures, the involvement of the various nervous systems in the process, the phases of bodily response, the disorders, transmitted infections and diseases, unconventional and conventional practices, flow of hormones, and so on and so forth. or maybe my slight obsession with this stems from the fact that in t-minus four hours i have an exam on this shtuff. cross your fing-fings.

for today i'll let myself be a dreamer.
today i'll soak up the sun that peaks its way through these april clouds.

and tonight i'll don my cowboy boots and drip myself in diamonds.

because (musician or baker or other) that's just the kind of lady i am.

this spring, dance.

there is this ironic twist that happens when you decide to share your thoughts and moments on a space such as this: the busier you are, the longer you go without writing; the longer you go without writing, the more you have to say; the more you have to say, the more daunting it becomes, and simply adds to the list of "i am too busy to touch that right now." and so days and days pass without words, weeks and weeks pass without clicks, and suddenly we are left catching up with a month's worth of shtuff.

but, come on. we're all grownups. let's move past that.

what has this month brought? a community of nothing but absolute goodness, that is what.

we have learned how to greet the days and celebrate the mornings:

we have learned how to forget our troubles and soak up the afternoons:

we have learned how to live the prime of our lives and go without sleep:

we have DANCED with a thousand people in the streets of seattle: flash mob flash mob flash mob 

we have SUNG with a hundred people in the secret gem of seattle: organaoke


i have put my dancing shoes on.


and after some time, after a break from writing and a break from thinking, i have realized that i am absolutely bulletproof. so, chin up and ready to strut: 

i'm happier dancing to the beat of my own drum than that rhythmic spell. cheers to that. 


i was a dancer all along. 

BUSY.

i just turned down a job to be a baker in one of the greatest cafés in the neighborhood.

because

i

am

too

damn

busy.

it pains pains pains pains pains pains me.

a trick.

when you're feeling down and not even the sunny days help...

find something girly that takes your blues away. 

and then buy it. 

the road.

i would like to close my computer, turn off my phone, and get in my volvo and go.

i'd make a fresh pot of coffee first.

i'd wear a yellow dress.

i'd pick some flowers on my way out the door

some would go in my pocket

and some on my dashboard.

the tunes would wail and my hair would tangle in the wind.

in front of me: a blank blank slate.

 and an open road to anywhere.

.........................................................................................................................

this restless feeling makes my heart weak sometimes.

its all ending.

finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals finals.....

and this is how i spend my time instead of studying.

HA.

it's MARCH?!

last weekend:

this week:

my hard work.

this weekend:

PORT LAND.

next week:

.....finals....

a twenty-three-year track record......

1987: “You are My Sunshine,” Bob Dylan & Johnny Cash 

1996: “Galileo,” Indigo Girls

1997: “Welcome to the Cruel World,” Ben Harper

1999: “Hometown Glory,” Adele

2005: “The Wind,” Cat Stevens

2006: “Down Home Girl,” Old Crow Medicine Show

2007: “Light Enough to Travel,” The Be Good Tanyas

2009: “A Mi Manera,” Siempre Así

 

2010: “Making Pies,” Patty Griffin

2010: “We Lived in Bars,” Cat Power

it's a battle.

registering for classes always reveals the odd parody that exists between my two battling selves:

she who loves a challenge, strives for success, over achieves, and wants the absolute best and greatest from every college credit taken and dollar spent;

and she who is lazy, burnt out, tired, and ready. for. a. break.

and as the clock strikes six am it is a silent battle between the two sides, each with justifiable arguments and selfish aims, each with reason to thrive, each with reasonable claims for existence.

stay tuned to find out who wins.

dark chocolate espresso powder soufflé cupcakes with white chocolate mint cream droplets.

all i have to say is... hooooooly shit.....

these little guys were the hardest (and most rewarding) cupcakes i've ever made.

happy weekend.

fevers.

you give me fever when you kiss me fever when you hold me tight. fever in the morning fever all through the night. 


i got a loss of appetite, im so tired, i can't sleep can't dream wake up every night. chills runnin' down my spine, my fever is so high. 


sometimes i'll hear her when she's sleeping, her fever dream a language on her face. 


i don't know why they make fevers sound so sexy.


you certainly don't feel that way when you wake up on a thursday morning and have a fever of 102. yuck.

pause for the paws.

dog-sitting proves that i'm not ready for a lot of things.

that list of things includes: a dog, a child, or anything that resembles a dog or a child.

at last.

at last, the middle of the quarter has passed. :) and how do you celebrate?

well. you get a fresh start. your little restless spirit starts acting up. you know you can't move anywhere right now (michelle, let's be realistic here), but you need a change. you need something. and so...you cut off all. of. your. hair. and for now you feel refreshed and renewed and so damn good.

well. you sink sweetly into the house that you are house-sitting. television! ovens! a living room and a bedroom and a kitchen? WHAT?

well. you get a case of bakes. you get a case of the "dear school, im not doing any of that damn homework you mandate" rebellion. and you get the laze craze...oh yes i'm crazy about that laze craze.

and after that you raise your glass to the end of the weekend. happy over-the-middle. happy nineteen twenties hair. happy valentine's day. happy president's day. cheers to it all.

terminate this middleness!

mid-terms numb my buns. 

i sit. i read. i read. i get distracted. i read. i write. i study. i get distracted. i read. i read. i study. i get distracted. i cancel and postpone and reschedule and get distracted. there just aren't enough hours in the day...

so amidst the alarm and class and work and reading and writing and arithmetic (NO i would never sign up for the last one, so why are there arithmetic problems on my midterm review sheet? have i ever been to this class?) midterms are synonymous with a tornado of clocks ticking and distractions looming (yes, the rambling words embody the week).

and yet somehow, even without enough hours in the day, it always gets done. ....one of the unexplanables of life.

don't stop, get it get it.

remember when every single sentence began with "remember when" and "what if"?
well what if this continues for the rest of my life? 

beans!

my saturday night?

it's rainy out there. and so i say: don't fall for the melodic droplets... they are luring sirens who only beg regret the next morning. so stay home. :)

.....and hang out with otis. and robert. and the jacksons. and sir cab.

....and dive into this love affair that you have with a certain cooking blog. all-aboard. no hesitations. go!

....and put on something yellow or blue or turquoise. [it makes it all worth while. cue shameless picture in order to say "thanks, sophie!"]

....and peel and chop and sizzle. [although, be forewarned that those onions were strong. i mean powerfully strong. i mean  i think we might actually be bawling, these tears are dripping inside and out strong. phew!]

...and turn the borrowed pot on [thanks, karina!] and drift off off and away.

....and soak yourself in the smell that resounds when you cook this.

it's an easy fix for the saturday blues.

the hare.

i will admit it: i. am. slooow.

not in all aspects. oh no no no my brain (sometimes) moves quickly i drive quickly i dance quickly i finish glasses of wine quickly. but this? this is serious. i move at a remarkably slow pace. and (un)fortunately i don't mean this in the most casual sense. i don't mean that a couple of times i get passed on my two-mile walk to work or that a handful of times people cough that sweet "i'm behind you get out of my fucking way" cough. this? this isn't casual. instead, this is "it must take skill how slow that girl is walking." certainly. of course. and it all makes sense....

i suppose with the passing of time moving the way that it does i am succumbed to chose one aspect of my life of which i can control the pace. too much of our lives pass in that flashing "just-wait-let-me-grab-you-just-for-one-second-more" way: childhood, love, a good song, a great book, relationships, safety, happiness. they fly by in the beat that booms no tune of understanding. they soar by without a glimpse. and it all happens so quickly!

so what do i do? i suppose i transform it into some sort of nonsensical superb power. i slow down this stroll. i wander. i meander. i amble. i eavesdrop. i soak in. i let my legs stretch with each intentional glide. they find their balance and dance that rhythmically slow beat as so many pass by.

so to the students that cough the cough, to the couples that break their hand-holds as they circle around me, to the unending groups that tailgate and express their uninterested annoyance....

i'm sorry. i'm slow. 

(but, to fill you in on a little secret? i love it. i love the rhythm of a promenade. when you move like that, words and worlds catch you. and oh it feels good.)

[on happiness.]

the truth is, contentment terrifies me. 

[an insight into classes.]

here is my latest project for a class on personal ethnography. it is long. so are these school days. but they're lovely....

The day has rolled along in the laziest of manners, hours of school melting away even before the morning yawns have subsided. As the final bell rings, and my notes are tucked away and my bag is packed and my iPod queued for the walk, I step out into the sunny day of southern Spain. The lackadaisical mantra of this place guides my walk along the coast. What is supposed to take thirty minutes usually turns into forty-five under the beating sun. But finally, as I feel the sweat beads slowly slide their way down my back, I have made it home.

            I stand in front of the black rod-iron gate that weakly guards the tiny patio of this home. As I fiddle to find my keys (always hidden in the depths of my school bag), my eyes meet the laundry that hangs from the second-story. My madre has washed my clothes today, and the wisps of white and yellow and pink clothes bob up and down with the ever-so-slight breeze of the day. Still fiddling with the lock, my eyes move farther up the wall of the building and into the second-story window. Inside I can see my madre dancing from the living room into the kitchen, smile across her face and serving spoon in her hand. There are heads sticking up above the lowest part of the window; the whole family is over for lunch, the house is alive and buzzing.

As I turn the key in the lock a satisfying click resounds in the air. The streets are empty (everybody in the neighborhood is home having lunch right now); the click of the lock opening is loud. I walk inside the building, up the two flights of cement stairs, and up to door number two. The wooden door is open, the must have been waiting for me.

I walk inside my home. I am greeted immediately: my one-year-old host brother, Samuel, yells my name in the loudest cackle of joy; my six-year-old host sister, Marta, cries hello in defiance of the ever-burdening task of eating; my other host siblings rise out of their chairs and come kiss me; my madre shouts her excitement of my arrival home (I am late, and I blame the beautiful walk and the heat). I throw my things on one of the blue couches, and take my shoes off. The lights are off in the room (much too hot to have lights on), and the cool linoleum of the living room is refreshing on my sweaty feet. I mosey over to the small children and kiss each of them twice on the cheeks. I look around: the television on, the fan on, the olive oil singing bursts of activity from the kitchen, my madre in her apron, my stomach rumbling in the thought of her food, my tongue spewing Spanish phrases I didn’t know I had in me. There is laughter. There are tears. There is raw truth in this place. (En la calle García de Sola, Número 28, Segundo a la derecha.) This is my family, this is my home.

We eat. We feast. And afterwards, when things have calmed and people have left and it is just my madre and me, I clear the table. She stands in the kitchen in her terry-cloth apron and purple gloves that she wears to wash the dishes. I put all of the un-eaten scraps of food on one plate (knowing full-well that she will comment on the waste that was, in some way or another, bless her heart, my fault), stack the delicate white plates on top of one another, and bring them into the kitchen.  She laughs and tenderly slaps my butt as I wiggle my way past her (always fun and games, me and this new mother of mine). All of the glasses (each filled with its own remnant of what once was: water, coca-cola, zumo, cerveza, sangria) are stacked, all of the utensils are shoved inside of one, and it is all brought into the kitchen. The television is still on, and we both run in front of it when something exciting appears (especially something regarding the news of the girl that was kidnapped and murdered last week; the country mourns for her as if she was, and she is, kin). Leftovers, beverages, plates of the fruit that we have eaten for dessert, are brought in and set on the kitchen table. I grab each corner of the table cloth, fold it like an envelope, and open the window. Outside sway the pieces of clothing that I once looked at from below, those sweet morsels of cloth that my madre has so tenderly washed. I shake the tablecloth out the window, emptying it of all evidence of lunch. It gets folded and tucked into the drawer under the television. I return to the table and put the white cloth on top of it, the lace cloth on top of that, and the green plant on that. My madre is still in the kitchen suds-ing and washing away. I kiss her cheek, give her a tight squeeze, and walk down the hallway towards my bedroom. “¡A dormir!” she shouts in her strong and loving voice, “To bed!” School and lunch are done for the day, and in the wallowing heat I tuck myself in for a long afternoon nap. This home is good. Oh, how I miss this home.