the golden hour at the cliffs

Sunday night, jazz station

The other day on my drive home from work, I heard a story about how some people in Athens, Greece can't afford oil to heat their houses, so they're going into the forest to collect wood to burn. And some are burning old furniture and it's releasing noxious fumes into the air from the paint, finishing, etc. You only have to listen to the news for a few minutes to really feel thankful for everything you have. I’m still stuck on Paul’s letter to the Philipians. Joy is harder for me than gratitude. Even though I’m thankful for so many things, I also feel exhausted most of the time, and it’s hard to feel joyful when you don’t have energy. Unless I’m thinking about joy in the wrong way – people jumping in the air and smiling all the time. Do joyful people know they’re joyful? Ronit thinks I’m positive, so does Sabrina; my brother and Danielle think I’m good at making the best out of bad situations. Maybe I’m joyful and I don’t even know it!

old park and future old neighborhood

this morning

early Thanksgiving

I was thankful for lots of things last week. Getting to take a mini trip, even if it was for work. Waking up in the hotel to see snow outside my window and walking to work with snowflakes falling on my eyelashes. Touring breweries. Mary Oliver's new book, and finding a cool independent book store to buy it from. Seeing Band of Horses play in my town. Sunny days and kayaking with Linz. This Blondie song.

scab or scar

How long can a scab last, really? In August, I scraped my knee across a rock in Malibu. The waves were huge and knocked me over. I didn't see the rock in the water. (Why'd you go during south swell? my sister asked later.) The person I was with didn't care and swam away from me. Afterwards, I sat on my towel and watched it bleed a little. My hand is covering it in the picture. It left a purple scab that I thought would've gone away by now, but there it is. Maybe it's permanent? Nooo!

what's a month? five years?

The other day I woke up from the silliest dream. FP and I were getting married, a totally natural thing in the dream because we were in love. Only, on my way to the wedding (my mom was driving me in her minivan), I realized I wasn't wearing a white dress. I had on this magenta colored dress I bought that summer, the one I can't wear anymore because I now have the belly of Gary from Teen Mom. Ah, to be young and thin again. But I digress. I hadn't watched this video of FP I have in a long, long time. In it, I'm wearing the dress and we've just come back from his birthday dinner. I thought by watching it now I would see something new, maybe say "Look how young and naive I was. I'm so different now." Am I?