tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67825524579086391192024-03-13T10:28:10.135-07:00s t e p h i s h e r e//http://www.blogger.com/profile/17100178837903623619noreply@blogger.comBlogger253125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6782552457908639119.post-74161377667226622772016-07-20T01:45:00.001-07:002016-07-20T01:45:08.087-07:00A year is not enough<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I know that we're not kids no more. But I'm not ready.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/zinmagazine/videos/1121868977874935/">https://www.facebook.com/zinmagazine/videos/1121868977874935/</a></div>
//http://www.blogger.com/profile/17100178837903623619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6782552457908639119.post-86738182421682391822014-10-14T18:37:00.002-07:002014-10-14T18:41:47.091-07:00The Future is So Bright, I Gotta Wear Shades; or, Where Do We Go From Here?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<img class="main-photo" height="300" src="//c1.staticflickr.com/5/4119/4822260990_93433f9abc_b.jpg" width="658" /></div>
//http://www.blogger.com/profile/17100178837903623619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6782552457908639119.post-18818926081047806722013-09-28T03:05:00.002-07:002013-09-28T03:10:32.285-07:00was it?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: center;">
and now i realize, it wasn't love i sought. it was the pain. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRlbD4VpTEDTVBOVU0pRSExsMAONrDsZNmghOLTomIR5c4yj-En" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRlbD4VpTEDTVBOVU0pRSExsMAONrDsZNmghOLTomIR5c4yj-En" /></a></div>
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//http://www.blogger.com/profile/17100178837903623619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6782552457908639119.post-41093130642443584982013-05-06T22:13:00.003-07:002013-09-28T03:08:53.636-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://glad.is/wp-content/uploads/2013/02/yourtask.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://glad.is/wp-content/uploads/2013/02/yourtask.jpg" width="302" /></a></div>
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//http://www.blogger.com/profile/17100178837903623619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6782552457908639119.post-52610634143266199472013-02-25T19:50:00.000-08:002013-02-25T19:50:01.726-08:00de kooning<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-W2PBpL4UsKY/USwvpWHNX8I/AAAAAAAAAWM/R0KCS67BqXQ/s1600/IMAG1386.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="297" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-W2PBpL4UsKY/USwvpWHNX8I/AAAAAAAAAWM/R0KCS67BqXQ/s400/IMAG1386.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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//http://www.blogger.com/profile/17100178837903623619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6782552457908639119.post-79821628384816909412013-02-25T19:49:00.002-08:002013-02-25T19:49:15.588-08:00her.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-waMH36_XaC0/USwwpMhCMWI/AAAAAAAAAWY/NYJnl5b1KwY/s1600/IMAG1404.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-waMH36_XaC0/USwwpMhCMWI/AAAAAAAAAWY/NYJnl5b1KwY/s320/IMAG1404.jpg" width="274" /></a></div>
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//http://www.blogger.com/profile/17100178837903623619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6782552457908639119.post-42372998933402106592012-11-16T14:47:00.001-08:002012-11-16T14:47:35.138-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--kRM_fw0fag/UKbCdBcMoEI/AAAAAAAAAVc/vgkSgV3447I/s1600/joan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="438" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--kRM_fw0fag/UKbCdBcMoEI/AAAAAAAAAVc/vgkSgV3447I/s640/joan.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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//http://www.blogger.com/profile/17100178837903623619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6782552457908639119.post-31761386083476144792012-10-23T17:19:00.003-07:002012-10-23T17:19:42.928-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oisty9z5S0k/UIc0AQiAewI/AAAAAAAAAUw/Aa26aA_3MR4/s1600/133374_319008114872948_848573309_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="430" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oisty9z5S0k/UIc0AQiAewI/AAAAAAAAAUw/Aa26aA_3MR4/s640/133374_319008114872948_848573309_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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//http://www.blogger.com/profile/17100178837903623619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6782552457908639119.post-85689989259482168132012-10-12T00:08:00.001-07:002012-10-12T10:49:25.256-07:00Crying out for Syria<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<big></big><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<big><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">For the first time, in many years, today I seem to be feeling older. Of course there are the normal creeks and cracks of my joints, but there is no new physical ailment to attain to this phenomenon; rather, I feel as though I have been enlightened beyond my human (age-permitting) capacity. </span></big><br />
<big><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Why? I met with a young man from Syria today. He told me of the horrible occurrences his country is facing. His people are being tortured by a morale-less, abhorrent, brainwashing, dictator, al-Assad: a repulsive man who will go down in history next to the likes of Hitler and Stalin. While I will never put my new friend at risk by exposing his identity, I must confess that he poured out his heart to me, nearly in tears, over the anguish of his life, his family, his friends. Without flinching, he told me a of story in which a friend was tortured for two weeks by the Syrian government. He was an innocent man. His throat was gauged, his family still mourns. We talked at length today, for over two hours, about what Americans can do (yet haven't done) about this situation. The Syrians are crying out for our help, but for some reason the mass media has labeled the citizens of his country as "Terrorists that cannot be trusted", and so we Americans have yet to act. </span></big><br />
<big><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></big><big><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Factors in why we have yet to take action include the invaluable efforts of our media to keep us at arms length from helping the Middle East. Or so it seems? I have been continuously annoyed by the new generation of anchors like Erin Bernett and all the other stuttering, negative, attacking, news people about. CNN is just the tip of the iceberg. Can we not get over attacking everyone? According to mass media: Middle-Easterns are all terrorists, blacks are about to kill me, and the Hispanics are all illegal. Where is the truth? The unbiased viewpoint from each side? Where is the positive story? How can I actually use my time and effort to help the world? That's the news I want to watch.</span></big><br />
<big><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">While I continue my search to get to the bottom of this, I must also wade through the other back-trodden waters of deciding which politician I can actually trust with my vote. Should I choose the one who talks the talk, but fails to (convince congress) to walk the walk? Or that guy who claims HE can make this country avoid another earth-shattering recession? The guy who is lax on Syria and plans to stay out? Or the guy who, at least, wants to arm someone (be it rebels) toward the fight against the malicious dictator?</span></big><br />
<big><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">While I am still in flux for the latter, I know my heart goes out to my new friend, his family, and his country. If anything, maybe these roads toward Damascus can bring a new light to things as they did for Saint Paul some 2000+ years ago.</span></big><br />
<big><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And as I feel older, I will contemplate the anatomy of my hair. It is a strange thing... our looks, how we see ourselves as we begin to age:</span></big><br />
<big><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
</big><br />
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<big><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v6XQs6coRdk/UHfBlI31VeI/AAAAAAAAAUY/t29gi-13wtg/s1600/hair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="419" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v6XQs6coRdk/UHfBlI31VeI/AAAAAAAAAUY/t29gi-13wtg/s640/hair.jpg" width="640" /></a></big></div>
<big><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></big></div>
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//http://www.blogger.com/profile/17100178837903623619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6782552457908639119.post-86747642679652218642012-09-07T19:54:00.001-07:002012-09-07T19:54:42.220-07:00Revisiting the past<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
When I knew less.<br />
<br />
Or maybe I knew more.<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zGU-oaa0mMs/UEqzVqLvsoI/AAAAAAAAAS0/XMz-6WhL6rA/s1600/Julia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zGU-oaa0mMs/UEqzVqLvsoI/AAAAAAAAAS0/XMz-6WhL6rA/s640/Julia.jpg" width="512" /></a></div>
<br />
Film, natural sunset. Germany, apples. My life, for nearly three years. Now gone, almost forgotten.</div>
//http://www.blogger.com/profile/17100178837903623619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6782552457908639119.post-32425246579562015442012-09-03T11:31:00.000-07:002012-09-10T16:53:59.307-07:00Making that living<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
After quitting my job nearly three months ago, I've realized all the opportunities I've missed as an entrepreneur. Currently, I have a few top secret plans in the work for San Francisco that would have only come about by way of having this extra free time. I have also reopened my jewelry box and created a monster of myself. You should see my dining room table. I can make a mess like nobody's business!<br />
<br />
A few of my latest creations (whimsical tribal stick mobile included - possibly for sell; I should make more...) :<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mEh1sW9taw8/UET2Mwqe4eI/AAAAAAAAASY/2y-pANdftWs/s1600/Orange_mod2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="245" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mEh1sW9taw8/UET2Mwqe4eI/AAAAAAAAASY/2y-pANdftWs/s400/Orange_mod2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-syTWmRPij14/UET2SkId-MI/AAAAAAAAASg/kUWlKbphikg/s1600/neck_tribal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="321" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-syTWmRPij14/UET2SkId-MI/AAAAAAAAASg/kUWlKbphikg/s400/neck_tribal.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I'll be at Art in the Park in Kingston Springs on October 6, 2012. Please let me know if there are other craft fairs in the Nashville vicinity in which I should sign up. It would be greatly appreciated :)</div>
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//http://www.blogger.com/profile/17100178837903623619noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6782552457908639119.post-75376016514188006012012-08-28T23:18:00.001-07:002012-08-28T23:51:26.771-07:00By no relation<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I originally heard of Dan Deacon when I visited Brooklyn for the first time in 2007. My band was playing <a href="http://cake-shop.com/" target="_blank">Cake Shop</a>, and of course, being in a record store pre-Spotify, I HAD to by a new album. I asked the counter guy what he recommended. He pulled out an album near-by, and as I asked him why this one, he gave no other reason than the fact that he designed the cover. I agreeably bought the record -<i> </i><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19px; text-align: justify;"><i>Spiderman of the Rings </i>- </span>and it soon became my go-to jam whilst doing homework or designing on my computer.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">No matter where I am or what I am doing, I have always seemed to find a way to re-visit that album. In a way, I think it is why I have an unconditional love for electronic music (<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;">even though Mr. Deacon would refute such a term, a</span>s he would imply it is simply - just music). I am relived by the space it brings. I need it sometimes in my busy life - this space to breathe.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Today we celebrate the release of his new album <i>America.</i> I will leave you with this video, which although drives me crazy at times and I want to yell at the people, "NO! You're doing it wrong!" - the music makes me oh, so happy :) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">P.S. side-step guy at 2:35 may be my favourite part.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/XnXiXlF7olo" width="560"></iframe><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I wonder if I will ever meet Cake Shop designer boy again. If so, I would give him a thanks for the recommendation. </span></div>
//http://www.blogger.com/profile/17100178837903623619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6782552457908639119.post-89282213174370824262012-08-27T15:39:00.000-07:002012-08-27T15:39:36.418-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I'm neither here nor there, but at least I know where I want to be.<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img src="https://sphotos-b.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/s720x720/426578_10151103580557556_527452598_n.jpg" width="550" /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">I'm moving to the oceanside,</span></span></i></div>
<i><div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Where the air is pure and clean.</span></span></i></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">I'm moving to the oceanside,</span></span></i></div>
<span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Where I can hear my dreams crash into me.</span></i></div>
</span><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm moving to the oceanside,</span></i></div>
</span><span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Where the ground is thick and green.</span></i></div>
</span><span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm moving to the oceanside,</span></i></div>
</span><span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Where the sound is a misty sheen.</span></i></div>
</span><span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm moving to the oceanside,</span></i></div>
</span><span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Where the songs are born from the sea.</span></i></div>
</span><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm moving to the oceanside,</span></i></div>
</span><span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Where I can look out endlessly.</span></i></div>
</span><span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm moving to the oceanside,</span></i></div>
</span><span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Where the dolphins swim freely.</span></i></div>
</span><span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm moving to the oceanside,</span></i></div>
</span><span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My love, won't you come with me.</span></i></div>
</span></span></i></div>
</div>
//http://www.blogger.com/profile/17100178837903623619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6782552457908639119.post-8143663985433418012012-08-23T00:01:00.001-07:002012-08-23T00:03:29.521-07:00Dearest San Francisco:<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
take me back.</div>
//http://www.blogger.com/profile/17100178837903623619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6782552457908639119.post-68996763597849406242012-07-31T11:29:00.001-07:002012-07-31T11:29:57.497-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><span style="font-size: small;">"The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it.</span><span style="font-size: small;">"</span></i><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
- Henry David Thoreu </blockquote>
</blockquote>
</blockquote>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XYX2cbJzRpY/UBgkCs9IOGI/AAAAAAAAAR8/_wfQKDnK_vA/s1600/GG.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="315" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XYX2cbJzRpY/UBgkCs9IOGI/AAAAAAAAAR8/_wfQKDnK_vA/s320/GG.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
</div>//http://www.blogger.com/profile/17100178837903623619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6782552457908639119.post-40932992042438955862012-07-29T17:21:00.000-07:002012-08-09T16:59:12.833-07:00Pain. Thoughts.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br /><blockquote class="tr_bq">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>"The self-lover is busy; he shouts and makes a big noise and stands on
his rights in order to make sure he is not forgotten - and yet he is
forgotten. But the one who loves, who forgets himself, is recollected by
love."</i></blockquote>
</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
- Søren Kierkegaard, <i>Works of Love</i>, ed. and trans.</blockquote>
</blockquote>
</blockquote>
</blockquote>
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>//http://www.blogger.com/profile/17100178837903623619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6782552457908639119.post-30012739907316464362012-07-28T23:35:00.001-07:002012-08-09T17:00:49.488-07:00Where am I?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
What am I supposed to be learning about this confinement I’ve
been subjected to? I’ve spent enough time alone to know that I don’t want to be
alone anymore yet I am continually placed into circumstances in which I find
only myself. God knows I love community and being around active cities. Why do
I keep finding myself in sleepy towns – without my friends around? Even as I
plan to move somewhere, I am pulled away as if conjoined to my despair
shouting, “Don’t leave me!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sorry despair, I want to go. I’m done with you and your
reminders of who I am. I am sick of myself. There I said it. I am sick and
tired of me, myself, and, I. I am sick of talking to myself to keep from going
insane. I am tired and warn out from tying keep myself entertained. I can’t do
it anymore. Isn’t that someone else’s job?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
God, why am I here? Is this some kind of test because I feel as if I am now failing... I feel as if I am worse of today than I was yesterday.
Shouldn’t I be growing and changing?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I guess there is nowhere else to go but up from here.</div>
</div>//http://www.blogger.com/profile/17100178837903623619noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6782552457908639119.post-29068482011236363052012-07-04T16:34:00.000-07:002012-07-04T16:59:04.976-07:00The cliche 4th of July post.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I study injustice, social change, poverty, sustainability –
the good, the bad, and the ugly – on a daily basis. It is rare that I come across
something in that sphere that is worthy to share (other than the things I
produce – oh, like <a href="https://vimeo.com/18126984" target="_blank">the video for the Koshe project</a>. You remember that one don’t
you?) Quite frankly, most of the things I uncover are simply too depressing to
talk about.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/hoghjn4P7SA?fs=1" width="480"></iframe> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I think it is appropriate I came across this video
today. The stark contrast between freedom and being a refugee is presented in
this film as a reminder of my great blessings, but also that not everything has
to be as bad it seems. There can be happiness in the ruins, in other’s
mistakes, and in enduring the most disheartening of circumstances. What is
happiness? It has been defined in this country by how many Apple products you
own, how much press your indie-rock band gets, by paying off your student loans
so you can finally take that hot chick out to that fancy restaurant Yelp
followers have been raving about, the list goes on and on. But in reality it is
so much more (or so much less, depending on the way you look it). I am mature
enough to understand my happiness does not come from owning stuff or having it
all together. Rather it comes from community, family, and (in essence) freedom.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am reminded that even though I am free, my brothers and
sisters all across the world are not. I admire the hope that this video embodies.
These scenes in Africa are all so familiar to me. While I’ve only visited
Africa (Kenya and Ethiopia) for a total of five months, I am given a little nostalgic
reminder of the dirt, the jerry cans, and the plastic sandals. These images may
seem exaggerated, but the truth is, that is the life of so many people. And
yet, despite our standards for happiness, these people can also find joy. By no
means am I saying this is a place to live. No one should be forced from their
home. And that is where I come to my first point: Because I’ve been surrounded
and saturated with facts about war, poverty, and refugees for years, I am
uncertain if this is news to anyone. Do you know about this? There are civil
wars going throughout most of East Africa and quite frankly, I don’t know what
to do about it other than share what I learn and pray for peace. </div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So often refugees are forgotten because the problem seems
too overwhelming. Our intention was to have two worlds crashing together with
the hopes that in the mash-up both worlds’ beauty would shine through in their
purest form.”</div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://www.filmaid.org/news-and-media/videos/2012-06-a-heavy-abacus-by-the-joy-formidable-filmaid-version" target="_blank">– filmmakers, Paola Mendoza and Topaz Adizes</a></div>
</blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’d admire their efforts, and I would have to say: mission
well accomplished, boys! This organization is doing fine work and I hope someday
I can have the audacity to leave home and do something like this again. This
video makes me want to go back to the field to help others, hands on. I want to
create. I want to be with them, the hold them, to feel their pain, their joy.
Is something wrong with me? But most importantly I want peace on earth. It’s
what we hoped for in our nightly prayers as kids or the message we fashioned
together with Elmer’s glue and food-colored macaroni stuck to paper plates for
Christmas decorations in Mrs. Wiggin’s second grade class. But is it attainable?
And at what age did I learn that there really wasn’t peace on Earth? Should I
simply ask for that innocence back?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But today, I remember I am free. So to my fellow USAer's: Happy Independence Day, Ya’ll</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>//http://www.blogger.com/profile/17100178837903623619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6782552457908639119.post-86982955753690079342012-06-28T17:58:00.000-07:002012-06-29T14:04:53.989-07:00the 18 on Judah<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Last Wednesday you travelled alone. You where in new place. But what else was new? You had made the journey before, many times actually, except mostly on different continents and under much more pressing circumstances. This time you were lost to all sensibility but somehow, still, had a semi-conspired plan in mind. However, you had not planned very well. Or maybe the not planning was part of the plan. You forgot to figure out in what direction to go or how long you would need to get there, wherever there was. <br />
<br />
The place was cooler than you imagined it to be, especially in a district called Sunset. Though you never really imagined to be there at all. It was a place which felt more like Portland than any neighborhood in California. That day the sun was missing - instead, replaced by a dreary fog and a coldish breeze. You weren't quite sure in which direction you were headed. The most you gathered was that you would hit the beach by sun down. You had the idea to someday visit the Golden Gate and once on the tram, above ground, you spotted it, but in the distance - too far of a walk to make with your already blistered feet. <br />
<br />
The shore was ahead of you, beyond the East horizon. Each bus stop which passed you thought, "I'll get off at the next one", but instead you chose to keep riding. You had a quiet thought, hope, or wish, perhaps, that he was there with you. But that wish quickly subsided. For in the company of anyone else you wouldn't be this still, this quite. Your thoughts would have gone to him instead of to those frigid, serene moments.<br />
<br />
The bus topped the final hill to the coast as you spotted mounds of sand in the distance. To your right was a laundromat that reminded you of him, but just barely. To your left you saw two grungy, half-baked guys sitting outside of a coffee shop. Outside the door were two chic girls atop an over-sized piece of driftwood - the first sort of style you've seen in blocks. You shrug the thought that they did not belong there - that they simply sat in places like these in hopes of making a statement - away.<br />
<br />
It was 1pm. You had yet to have had your morning coffee, and as it was on your list of things to do, you started toward the door. From the looks of it outside, you half suspected Nirvana to be on rotation, the flannel-clad barista even hinted to the scenario. Though "Silver" or even "Lithium" did not resonate in your ears that day, you were delighted, none-the-less, by the owner's southern drawl. He had relocated from North Carolina to California to take up surfing.<br />
<br />
The blithe owner of that shammy, grungy coffee shop assured you that you were in the right place and on that day you decided that's where you wanted to be - that somehow your unplanned plan came to fruition. <br />
<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XZVnLLzlXzY/T-0AogGDFKI/AAAAAAAAARs/nFOZGfx27io/s1600/Capture.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="318" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XZVnLLzlXzY/T-0AogGDFKI/AAAAAAAAARs/nFOZGfx27io/s320/Capture.PNG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Water from the Pacific.</i></div>
</div>//http://www.blogger.com/profile/17100178837903623619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6782552457908639119.post-51472957534930767812012-06-28T13:21:00.000-07:002012-06-28T13:21:16.634-07:00today<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Thoughts. Procrastination. Wanting. Learning. Becoming. Being.</div>//http://www.blogger.com/profile/17100178837903623619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6782552457908639119.post-71707752654678768652012-06-16T23:31:00.001-07:002012-06-16T23:31:35.002-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VwK13VJ1iIo/T915S1RVEVI/AAAAAAAAARg/xMpTAXCsdEc/s1600/603009_10151919794535942_1582994668_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VwK13VJ1iIo/T915S1RVEVI/AAAAAAAAARg/xMpTAXCsdEc/s400/603009_10151919794535942_1582994668_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br /></div>//http://www.blogger.com/profile/17100178837903623619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6782552457908639119.post-39571718240172779282012-06-08T18:51:00.001-07:002012-06-08T18:51:53.330-07:00My new addiction<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
In need of the perfect dress? Look no further. If you're like me, you have a plethora of clothing in your closet that has not been touched in, dare I say, years. It's time to re-vamp your wardrobe this summer. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5MAPozkP1Tw/T9Kp59fCqxI/AAAAAAAAARU/kIkaVirMQDE/s1600/Dress.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5MAPozkP1Tw/T9Kp59fCqxI/AAAAAAAAARU/kIkaVirMQDE/s640/Dress.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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#1: Be in the perfect forest wedding</div>
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#2: Find that white dress you just have no use for</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
#3: Pick your color. I chose RIT this time, but you can also use food coloring, Kool-Aid, or for colored fabrics... bleach (but that's next week.)</div>
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#4: For cottons/natural fabric you will need 1 cup of salt and 2 gallons of hot water</div>
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#5: Dip your garb in the mixed dye/salt <span style="text-align: left;">concoction</span></div>
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#6: Find big spoon/stick and stir. Keep stirring/agitating for a good 15-30 minutes</div>
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* The label said 30-60 minutes but I noticed my fabric getting SUPER dark and I didn't want emerald.</div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">and..... Voilà!</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
</div>//http://www.blogger.com/profile/17100178837903623619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6782552457908639119.post-17479655651426414102012-06-01T20:12:00.001-07:002012-06-01T20:24:32.598-07:00hurt.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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</div>
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</div>
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</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Zt322SoSLAs/T8mHZGVPfNI/AAAAAAAAARI/hhMcmS9kcSw/s1600/past1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Zt322SoSLAs/T8mHZGVPfNI/AAAAAAAAARI/hhMcmS9kcSw/s640/past1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br /></div>//http://www.blogger.com/profile/17100178837903623619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6782552457908639119.post-91279884108916662622012-05-28T09:39:00.001-07:002012-05-28T09:43:21.891-07:00To My Fallen Homies<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
On days like these, there is nothing more I want to do than keep my family close. My brother keeps asking me, "Why are you here?" He's confused as to why I would choose he and the kids over my friends. It's because I've realized the importance of family... and because I have the cutest, most ridiculous nieces and nephew on the planet. When I was close to death in Kenya (that story for another day) all I wanted to do was to see my niece one last time. I wanted to make her laugh while doing my silly dances in the kitchen as we baked cupcakes together.<br />
<br />
Friends can always walk away, but family is forever yours. Don't miss your chance. Seriously, I don't care how cheesy that sounds. When was the last time you told your momma you loved her? When was the last time you gave your dad any time of day. They aren't here forever.<br />
<br />
In memory of one of the most genuine souls, my7th grade crush, great friend, and all around amazing man. Daniel, you are forever missed.<br />
<br />
<3<br />
Steph<br />
<br />
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</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IvMGkDfO7es/T8Op56qziUI/AAAAAAAAAQk/C6z65pH6694/s1600/fam2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="210" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IvMGkDfO7es/T8Op56qziUI/AAAAAAAAAQk/C6z65pH6694/s640/fam2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br /></div>//http://www.blogger.com/profile/17100178837903623619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6782552457908639119.post-54412561286190750452012-05-18T14:40:00.000-07:002012-05-26T15:16:31.612-07:00my GAWD, we're cute.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FDPtdLZWdG4/T7bBnpstt4I/AAAAAAAAAQM/P7x48_38pzk/s1600/cinco.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="198" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FDPtdLZWdG4/T7bBnpstt4I/AAAAAAAAAQM/P7x48_38pzk/s640/cinco.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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We celebrated the Cinco de Mayo, with tiny hats (sombreros diminutos), and bicycles (bicicletas), of course. It was almost the perfect night when I thought I had found Nick from the New Girl... I'm convinced, if anything, this guy was his twin brother. But I tend to see things in other's many people don't...</div>
</div>//http://www.blogger.com/profile/17100178837903623619noreply@blogger.com0