La femme sans haine

Toutes les femmes sont des reines.
Certaines plus reines que les reines.
Elles disent des choses qui surprennent.
Elles brisent les hommes qu’elles enchaînent.
Cette chanson pour cette reine
Qui dit à son roi : « Maintenant
Je m’en vais avec le vent,
Avec les barbares d’Occident… »

Ce que tu n’as pas défendu par les armes
Ne crois pas le garder avec des larmes
Je m’en vais où ton peuple va
Je m’en vais, me chercher un autre roi…

Toutes les femmes sont des reines.
Sur terre, sur mer, neige ou désert
Derrière le voile des formes pleines
Il y a le mystère des sirènes.
Brûlez les villes, brûlez les bouges.
La flamme lèche et le fer touche
La chair vivante parle par la bouche.
La chair morte parle par la mouche.

Ce que tu n’as pas défendu par les armes
Ne crois pas le garder avec des larmes.
Je m’en vais où ton peuple va.
Je m’en vais, me chercher un autre roi…

Toutes les femmes sont des reines.
Dis-le à celle qui t’aime.
Ne pas vouloir devenir roi.
Ne change rien, c’est comme ça…
Voilà ce qu’a dit une reine
A un roi bon, vaincu, sans haine
Elle est partie comme s’en va la mer,
Quand la lune veut ça…

Ce que tu n’as pas défendu par les armes
Ne crois pas le garder avec des larmes
Je m’en vais où ton peuple va.
Je m’en vais, me chercher un autre roi…
Je m’en vais.
Je m’en vais.


Sometimes it takes a little bit of effort to love love love until your heart bursts.


We read Post Secret together every Sunday. It's a tradition we never miss. Unless we're fighting.

Of course, it makes sense that I'd be alone to discover a secret he could have sent.
"In absence of clearly defined goals, we become strangely loyal to performing daily acts of trivia."
Author Unknown

Mon Rêve familier

Je fais souvent ce rêve étrange et pénétrant
D'une femme inconnue, et que j'aime, et qui m'aime,
Et qui n'est, chaque fois, ni tout à fait la même
Ni tout à fait une autre, et m'aime et me comprend.

Car elle me comprend, et mon coeur transparent
Pour elle seule, hélas ! cesse d'être un problème
Pour elle seule, et les moiteurs de mon front blême,
Elle seule les sait rafraîchir, en pleurant.

Est-elle brune, blonde ou rousse ? --Je l'ignore.
Son nom ? Je me souviens qu'il est doux et sonore
Comme ceux des aimés que la Vie exila.

Son regard est pareil au regard des statues,
Et pour sa voix, lointaine, et calme, et grave, elle a
L'inflexion des voix chères qui se sont tues.

Paul VERLAINE, Poèmes saturniens (1866)
"Piglet: 'Pooh?'
Pooh: 'Yes, Piglet?'
Piglet: 'I've been thinking...'
Pooh: 'That's a very good habit to get into to, Piglet.'"
~Winnie the Pooh

The Surrealist Compliment Generator says

La pluie de vos insultes n'atteint pas le parapluie de mon indifference.

10 things that you may or may not know about me:

1) I’m really, irrationally, afraid rats will eat my toes. I have to live with this fear wherever I go: I curl my feet under me at the movies, sleep with the sheets tucked in even in the heat of the summer, and I have to wear socks or shoes if my feet are going to be under a table for any length of time… To be honest, this phobia has improved dramatically over the years: I used to fall asleep contorted to protect my ears, nose and fingers in addition to keeping my feet covered.
2) In kindergarten I once stole a toy stethoscope from a classmate and brought it home. I got a huge lecture from my mom AND my grandmother, separately and eventually promised to return it to the girl. Well, I didn’t and kept it hidden under my mattress for a while. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t play with it, it was my guilty treasure. A few weeks after, school let out for the summer and I went to France to visit my father. When I came back, my grandmother had renovated the house and the wing that had been my bedroom was walled off. For a long time I was convinced that my stethoscope was buried. I thought it was some kind of cosmic retribution for theft…
3) I cross myself every time I pass a cemetery. I’m not sure why either – the closest way I can explain it to myself is as a sign of respect for the dead… but even that doesn’t ring a true bell of understanding.
4) When I was 12, my cousin, her cousin and I snuck off into the back of the garden to smoke - only we didn’t have cigarettes. That wasn’t enough to stop us though; we rolled up notebook paper into thin tubes and fastened them with scotch tape. For tobacco, we plucked dry(ish) grass from the ground. Phillip, my cousin’s cousin, was the first one to try one. His first puff triggered a coughing fit that launched my cousin and I into hysterics, but didn’t deter us. Troubleshooting, we figured that the thing missing was a filter so we trekked back into the house for cotton balls. Back in our hide-out we stuffed our makeshift cigarette ends with the cotton and, with some trepidation, inhaled. That night, no one could figure out why all three of us had no voice.
5) I luuuurve water. Whenever I’m the slightest bit stressed – I jump in the bath. And if the going gets really tough, I duck my head under water to drown out the world (no pun intended).
6) I can eat and eat and eat. In my family organic vegetarianism is the law, so when I moved out at 18 there was a whole world of meat and junk food just begging to be discovered. And, boy, did I ever oblige! I went through a hot dog phase that probably caused a major boost in 7eleven business. Don’t get me started on bagels or McDonald’s breakfast (in fact, decadent breakfast in general). And I have an ongoing, everlasting, passionate love affair with burgers and fries, medium rare with ketchup if-you-please.
7) I dance. Not just when I’m out or in dance classes but also, I confess, when I am alone. I can’t help it, the rhythm is in my blood: I come home and put some music on and before you know it, my hips are shyly swaying, my toes tentatively tapping… Half an hour later, I’ve stopped everything I’m doing and dancing idiotically through my apartment. And, mind you, this isn’t dancing fit for public consumption it’s all out, mad, entranced booty shaking. And, no, you can not come and watch.
8) I used to write in a British accent. I was nine and living in England when I discovered I had any sort of penned talent, and I guess the accent stuck around my head longer than it did on my tongue. I don’t do it anymore, but maybe I should, maybe there’s a correlation between the nationality of my thoughts and the quality of my work. Would you like a cup o’ tea, mate?
9) I like to give really personal gifts. Or none at all. I actually believe I get more pleasure from the process of choosing, wrapping and giving a present than I do from receiving (well, let me not exaggerate here, it depends entirely on what I’m getting). I’m also not a fan of convention so the farther out my gifts end up being, the more excited I am to give them.
10) In lieu of bedtime stories, my mother used to recite poems to us. As a result I can remember bribes of Hugo and Verlaine. But if you ask me to recite them, they inevitably get tangled in my mind and rhymes of one get mixed in with rhymes of another.

Remember eating raspberries from your fingertips? Or jumping over cracks on a pavement?

Being a kid was so much fun...

Camping this weekend

We're going camping in the Adirondacks this weekend. I can't wait. There's a river and bike trails and even horses...

But I learnt my lesson from the last camping trip and brought extra sheets, my won sleeping back (which I am NOT sharing ;p...), billions of socks, sweaters and sweats.

Now all I need is a marshmallow stick and I'll really be a happy camper!

Gosh I'm in a sappy mood today

When a Woman Loves a Man

by David Lehman

When she says margarita she means daiquiri.
When she says quixotic she means mercurial.
And when she says, "I'll never speak to you again,"
she means, "Put your arms around me from behind
as I stand disconsolate at the window."

He's supposed to know that.

When a man loves a woman he is in New York and she is in Virginia
or he is in Boston, writing, and she is in New York, reading,
or she is wearing a sweater and sunglasses in Balboa Park and he
is raking leaves in Ithaca
or he is driving to East Hampton and she is standing disconsolate
at the window overlooking the bay
where a regatta of many-colored sails is going on
while he is stuck in traffic on the Long Island Expressway.

When a woman loves a man it is one ten in the morning
she is asleep he is watching the ball scores and eating pretzels
drinking lemonade
and two hours later he wakes up and staggers into bed
where she remains asleep and very warm.

When she says tomorrow she means in three or four weeks.
When she says, "We're talking about me now,"
he stops talking. Her best friend comes over and says,
"Did somebody die?"

When a woman loves a man, they have gone
to swim naked in the stream
on a glorious July day
with the sound of the waterfall like a chuckle
of water rushing over smooth rocks,
and there is nothing alien in the universe.

Ripe apples fall about them.
What else can they do but eat?

When he says, "Ours is a transitional era,"
"that's very original of you," she replies,
dry as the martini he is sipping.

They fight all the time
It's fun
What do I owe you?
Let's start with an apology
Ok, I'm sorry, you dickhead.
A sign is held up saying "Laughter."
It's a silent picture.
"I've been fucked without a kiss," she says,
"and you can quote me on that,"
which sounds great in an English accent.

One year they broke up seven times and threatened to do it
another nine times.

When a woman loves a man, she wants him to meet her at the
airport in a foreign country with a jeep.
When a man loves a woman he's there. He doesn't complain that
she's two hours late
and there's nothing in the refrigerator.

When a woman loves a man, she wants to stay awake.
She's like a child crying
at nightfall because she didn't want the day to end.

When a man loves a woman, he watches her sleep, thinking:
as midnight to the moon is sleep to the beloved.
A thousand fireflies wink at him.
The frogs sound like the string section
of the orchestra warming up.
The stars dangle down like earrings the shape of grapes.


I believe in Love though Love is absent …
I believe in Beauty though Beauty is rent …

I believe in God though God is silent …
I believe in Life though Life is spent …

by Steven O'Brien

Based on an unsigned inscription in a cave where Jews had been hiding during the Second World War.

I'm madly in love with this one! Look at her mischievious little expression.

It takes little to make me happy...

I have to admit, I think I do yoga for the savasana at the end of class. Those last few minutes spent laying on the floor, emptied of thoughts can stretch on for an eternity... in a great sense. It's the only time during the day I stay absolutely still with nothing to worry about.
Love is at first not anything that means merging, giving over and uniting with another (...), it is a high inducement to the individual to ripen, to become world, to become world for himself for another's sake.

~Rainer Maria Rilke

Love letters

THERE IS A French woman who kept old love letters from her husband. He wrote her beautiful letters before they married. Every time she got a letter from him, she savoured every sentence — every word — it was so sweet, so understanding, so full of love...

(more inside)

I love this outdoor space. It combines everything I love in design: old world charm, and understated, subtle modernity. It's serene and inviting and elegant. The furniture has this sensual roundness I love in furniture, and despite the hard material it is made from, it seems like it would be comfortable.

Design That Solves Problems for the World’s Poor

I love this. As an aspiring furniture designer, I have had to come to terms with the idea that my work will serve no greater purpose than to make people's environments "pretty". This article reminded me that there is an alternative. I don't think I am practical enough to come up with usable designs, but I can at least focus on creations that help local communities and use recycled materials like
There are a few friends in life who let you get away with nothing. Sometimes you hate them and never want to see them again, regretting having let them in so far in your life. But just the fact that they have stuck around despite the many flaws they have clearly pointed out makes them the best people to keep in your life. That they keep you on your toes, pushing you to those higher plateaus only they know you can achieve makes them angels in your life.
The sky went from beautifully bright to this in a matter of minutes. The wind outside is unbelievable with sand and debris whirling like mad around the parking lot. Our power went out a few minutes ago, the phones are still down and there is a tornado watch.

This is exactly what I needed: for the sky to be as turbulent as I feel makes everything ok. I'm so excited at the prospect of a storm that I literally feel charged.
Every day since writing my long rant on excuses last week, I’ve thought about how harsh my feelings are on this. It’s not really surprising though because at one point, I struggled with the very same issues myself – and so I feel like the knife cuts very close indeed.

Why is it that we judge harder when it’s something we have direct and personal experience with?

“Oops, I fucked up. Please forgive me”

What an immature way to live your life! Don’t get me wrong, I’m far from perfect – but at least I don’t operate is if I have a built in error margin. There are certain things in life you can pretty much predict will not have good outcomes so it makes no sense to me to go on with them.

It’s even worse when the mistakes you make involve hurting other people. Sure, in your close relationships you should expect a fair amount of forgiveness, but at what point do your actions go from innocent to being callous. It’s not hard to gage what someone’s reaction is going to be, so not taking into consideration their feelings is not just dumb – it’s mean. Why spend your energy asking for forgiveness when you could just as easily avoid the things that will hurt them.

On a related note: I hate excuses. I hate excuses so much that even when I have a valid one it takes a lot for me to say it. I’d much rather NOT do something that requires one. People who constantly have to excuse their behavior are just not responsible.

The worst is that when you care about someone – you want nothing more than to accept their explanations, to go back to being ok. But each time you go through this cycle, it breaks you down a little, takes a little of the magic away from the relationship. For me at least, it’s not a viable way to be with someone.


She's on my desktop and everytime I see this picture at work - no matter what chaos I'm dealing with - it makes me smile.

Who's cuter than this little cutey patooty?

Jack Johnson ~ Cocoon

based on your smile im betting all of this might be over soon but youre bound to win because if im betting against you, i think id rather lose but this is all that i have, so please take whats left of this heart, and use please use only what you really need you know i only have so little, so please mend your broken heart and leave i know its not your style and i can tell by the way that you move its real real soon but im on your side and i dont want to be your regret, id rather be your cocoon but this is all that you have, so please let me take whats left of your heart, and i will use i swear ill use only what i need i know you only have so little, so please let me mend my broken heart you said this was all you have and its all i need but blah blah blah because it fell apart i guess its all you knew and all i had but now we have only confused hearts i guess all we have is really all we need so please lets take these broken hearts, and use lets use only what we really need you know we only have so little, so please take these broken hearts and leave
At the end of the day, what isn't as imporatnt as how.

I can live through anything as long as it makes me feel alive.

Lines for Winter

Tell yourself
as it gets cold and gray falls from the air
that you will go on
walking, hearing
the same tune no matter where
you find yourself--
inside the dome of dark
or under the crackling white of the moon's gaze in a valley of snow.
Tonight as it gets cold tell yourself
what you know which is nothing
but the tune your bones play
as you keep going. And you will be able
for once to lie down under the samll fire
of winter stars.
And if it happens that you cannot
go on or turn back
and you find yourself
where you will be at the end,
tell yourself
in that final flowing of cold through your limbs
that you love what you are.

~ Mark Strand


I have nothing but faith to go on
Everything real is telling me to go on
You led to the rise and then the demise
Of the trust I put in your eyes.
But I turn the key into your relief.
Let myself into the world of belief,
Because something in the ones we once were
Is telling me it is something we can never alter.

Au Revoir Simone ~ Lucky One

A dream of togetherness
Turned into a brighter mess
A faint sigh my spoken best
Now, now

Make way for the simple hours
No finding the time it’s ours
A fate or it's a desire
I know

So I was the lucky one
Reading letters, not writing them
Taking pictures of anyone
I know

So let the sun shine
So let the sun shine
So let the sun shine
Let it come
To show us that tomorrow is eventual
We know it when the day is done

So let the sun shine
So let the sun shine
So let the sun shine
Let it come
To show us that tomorrow is eventual
We know it when the day is done

So let the sun shine
So let the sun shine
So let the sun shine
Let it come
To show us that tomorrow is eventual
We know it when the day is done
Becoming someone we had to love
Turned you into the biggest mess
You were the one I reached for up above,
But turned into the cause of all the bitterness.

Meerkat fever

I'm not a big animal person BUT I love meerkats. They look like little monkeys minus the climbing and crazy puberty stage. In addition to being very dapper, they have the added bonus of protecting villages from Moon Devils.

Moving yet again...

So, once again, I find myself all packed up and ready to move. Aside from the chaotic nightmare that packing represents, I'm calm and happy about it. It's not really surprising though, seeing as I've done this all before. But as my pile of boxes grows I feel like I'd like to find the place to put down roots...

'Indecision may or may not be my problem' - Jimmy Buffett

It's never been mine. For better or for worse I've always known what I wanted and done everything in my power to achieve it. I'm impulsive and passionate about the choices I make, and put 100% of my soul behind them.
"You have to take risks. We will only understand the miracle of life fully when we allow the unexpected to happen. Every day, God gives us the sun -and also one moment in which we have the ability to change everything that makes us unhappy. Every day, we try to pretend that we haven't perceived that moment, that it doesn't exist - that today is the same as yesterday and will be the same as tomorrow. But if people really pay attention to their everyday lives, they will discover that magic moment. It may arrive in the instant when we are doing something mundane, like putting our front-door key in the lock; it may lie hidden in the quiet that follows the lunch hour or in the thousand and one things that all seem the same to us. But that moment exists - a moment when all the power of the stars becomes a part of us and enables us to perfom miracles.

Joy is sometimes a blessing, but it is often a conquest. Our magic moment helps us to change and sends us off in search of our dreams. Yes, we are going to suffer, we will have difficult times, and we will experience many disappoinments - but all of this is transitory; it leaves no permanent mark. And one day we will look back with pride and faith at the journey we have taken. Pitiful is the person who is afraid of taking risks. Perhaps this person will never be disappointed or disillusioned; perhaps he won't suffer the way people do when they have a dream to follow. But when that person looks back - and at some point everyone looks back - he will hear his heart saying, "What have you done with the miracles that God planted in your days? What have you done with the talents God bestowed on you? You buried yourself in a cave because you were fearful of losing those talents... So, this is your heritage: the certainty that you wasted your life. Pitiful are the people who must realize this. Because when they are finally able to believe in miracles, their life's magic moments will have already passed them by."

~Paulo Coelho, By the River Piedra, I sat Down & Wept

Nine Inch Nails ~ Only

Let me disclaim this post: I left class on this gorgeous day and when I got in the car this song was playing. I blasted it with the windows down riding over the Key bridge. I don't like this group, and it's even more ironic because I posted about my dislike a few days ago...

The lyrics don't pertain to my life in anyway, and it felt more like a hard-core feel good anthem than a you-suck-and-I'm-broken song. I'd like it better it the lyrics were more "sunshiny".

How to fall in love

From here:

1. Find a complete stranger.

2. Reveal to each other intimate details about your lives for half an hour.

3. Then, stare deeply into each other’s eyes without talking for four minutes.

York psychologist, Professor Arthur Arun, has been studying why people fall in love.

He asked his subjects to carry out the above 3 steps and found that many of his couples felt deeply attracted after the 34 minute experiment. Two of his subjects later got married.

Makes it sound so easy.

Jehro ~ Everything

Hair petting

Why do I think this is hilarious?

Basically, it's a game where you're supposed to pet strangers' hair without getting caught. It's suprisingly complex with a point system and everything.

A couple of weeks ago, in Indy, a random older woman complimented me on my hair (yes, it happens) and proceeded to stroke it. I thought it was the creepiest thing ever!

And yet, here I am thinking that the people who do this hair petting are a cross between nuts and awesome. I won't be participating anytime soon, and beware ANYONE who thinks I'm a likely target. I don't look it, but I can be fierce...
My mom just told me that if she didn't know me better she'd think I was on drugs. That on the surface I look normal and collected, but that it's all just a mask for my deliriousness...
"I was angry with my friend: I mentioned this to him, and the anger went. I was angry with my enemy: I didn’t mention it to him, and the anger increased."

~William Blake

I will survive

Today I came across an article entitled, "How to survive today if you're single". I love Valentine's day as much as the next gal when I'm coupled up, but I can survive just fine on this day if I'm single too.

In fact, had I not come across this caption, I wouldn't have even realized there was a reason I needed a staying-alive guide. What with all the ice and snow, I've had more important things on my mind.

So, in an angry huff I clicked on the article to discover that in order to wake up unharmed tomorrow morning I need to listen to some Nine Inch Nails (eh?), avoid trawling the streets for a last minute date (good thing I'm not in that kind of business, seeing as how cold it is), and send a card to my mom. The last point I can agree with, although I fail to see how it's going to keep my pulse going.

I haven't been single on V-day for a long time, but even so I have no overwhelming urges to throw myself off the Key Bridge. To be honest I've had one or two pangs of longing for a special person to share this day with - but nothing more affecting than what I feel on other special occasions. I just wish I didn't see signs everywhere urging me to lament my singleness.

So, though I won't be listening to unnecessarily loud music or begging strangers to take me out, I'll be doing the things that keep me alive everyday: reading, taking a long hot bath, maybe catching a movie, definately catching up with my loved ones.
"Love sometimes gets tired of speaking sweetly
And wants to rip to shreds
All your erroneous notions of truth
That make you fight within yourself, dear one,
And with others"


My proud contribution to this child's future...
"Would that I were young enough to love you, so that there were no place in my body too heavy, too dense, to dull for the spirit of my love..."

-Rainer Maria Rilke

The closest I can come to calling a place home is Cannes. I was born there and spent the bulk of my first four years there. Even when we left, until I was 16, my sister and I return during the holidays.

The picture is of a ramp going down to the beach directly in front of the apartment we lived in. It's at the very end of the Croisette, just off of a little park where I learnt how to ride a bike. Where, when I was three I lost my favourite toy: a doll named Piccolo.

My grandmother taught me how to swim in the shallow waters you can just glimpse in the picture. I remember her hand pressed under my stomach as she urged me to kick and keep my head up. I learnt quickly, but always preferred to swim under water. Once my sister and I could both swim, she'd take us swimming up to a little platform just off the beach. The trip there and back terrified me and I'd keep my eyes open and in the sea looking out for predators.

Later, we took sailing lessons in little toy-like boats with names like Mikado and Lucky Lady. In teams of two at first, and then alone, we sailed around the bay. I had one friend, so androgynous I still have no idea wether it was a boy or a girl, who I partnered up with most often. The two of us pretended we were sailing in a pot of Gargamel stew and that our boats were potatoe wedges.

Over the years, Cannes lost it's appeal. I wasn't old enough to enjoy the nightlife and missed my friends back home. Over the summers, the city became too full to manouver, and in the winter, it was a dull vaccuum as only vacation towns can be. When I turned 16, my mother finally let me decide where I wanted to spend my vacations and I didn't set foot in Cannes again for 8 years.

When I finally returned last year, my grandfather had died and my grandmother had sold the only apartment I could call home. My father was recovering from cancer and he too had moved away, to the place he was born. I returned alone, in the dead of winter and walked the first streets of my life. I wasn't sad because I missed them, but because I didn't - because at some point, I'd like to have a place to call home.
Something I wrote three months ago:

I've been reading some of my older journals – the ones I've always started and never finished. It seems that all my life I've spent my time hoping I could be better, waiting for my dreams to come true, for my life to start. And here I am today for the first time confident that everything is going to be all right.

Everyday is not perfect, but that's ok. I have ups and downs, lapses in judgment, I make mistakes and take wrong turns. Sometimes I cringe at my decisions. In the end, though, I am happy to be me in my life.

After many years, I feel God again. I believe love will come to me. I have faith in myself and whatever I will become, whatever I am.

I have learnt that the answers always come and that everything makes sense in the end. The important thing is making the moment magical. I know that is the most difficult.
I get more excited when my blog looks pretty then when I have something to say...

It's like when I picked my goldfish based on how they'd look against my color scheme.
I got a few CDs I'm very excited about today:

My mom turned me on to Sparklehorse. I haven't listened to the whole CD yet, but I already like the sound of it. It's easy to get into, and I feel like I want to sit down and read the lyrics of most of the songs.
I loved Yusuf Islam back when his name was Cat Stevens. In fact, his best of album was one of the first tapes (yes tape) I ever owned. What I like about this album is that it retains all of the simplicity I used to love, but sheds a lot of the false naivete that even as an 11 year old I knew better than to trust.
One thing I love about both music and book stores is browsing. After I picked out the two CDs I was looking for, I strolled around picking up any interesting looking CDs. This was the only one worthy of making it to the checkout counter. I must say I'm very excited about listening to it.

Pan's Labyrinth

It's absolutely freezing. This morning, before I got up I had to turn on my heater full blast and wait for my room to thaw out before even beginning to get out of bed. I nearly froze solid on my way to my steaming hot shower, and then once I'd used up all the hot water (hard to do in an apartment building), I thought I'd snap in two under the effects of the cold.

Remind me why 1) I want to move further north, 2) what is keeping me from selling seashells on the equator...
"Let yourself be silently drawn by the stronger pull of what you really love"

I don't like shaking hands...

One of my cello teachers, many years ago, used to make me watch videos of Jacqueline du Pre performing and the memory still holds. Part mad-woman, part magician she could hold me entranced for hours. It wasn't just the music or the way she played it, it was the passion she had for it, the way you could tell that when she was on stage everything but her cello disapeared. Sadly, she died very young of MS, but even as she knew her life was ending, the hardest part for her was losing her ability to play.

Once I am settled, I want to pick up the cello again. I haven't played in over ten years, but I used to be good.

The seven deadly sins: Pride

According to the Catholic Church: Self-esteem that goes beyond limits and places itself above love for God.

- From Warrior of the Light by Paolo Coelho

At first I thought this was excessively harsh. After all, I grew up learning it was important to be proud of myself and to do things that would make others proud of me. Surely, pride couldn't be so bad.

But once I started thinking about times in my life I have been excessively proud, and I was honest about my feelings, I realized that pride is dangerous. It almost always triggers a sense of invincibility and superiority which cause me to close my eyes and ears to advice and warnings. Every time I've reached a level where I was proud of myself, I also found myself at a stand still - a place where I stopped growing because pride created a false ceiling where I felt I had reached a peak and could rest.

There has to be a middle ground between feeling excessive pride and believing you're a failure. But I suppose it's a balance you constantly have to monitor and adjust.

Eeps! I'm starting to smoke again and I must stop! It started off quite innocently at bars bumming drags from my friends, then whole cigarettes, and now, I'm still not sure how, I have three packs in my possession. I'd like to say I only smoke when I drink, but that would be ignoring the increasing cravings I've had during the day.

I hate smoking. I hate the taste, the smell, the bags it gives me under my eyes, the shortness of breath and coughing, the grey tinge my skin picks up... So enough! From now on, not ONE cigarette.
A few weeks ago I started writing down my thoughts every night. At first it was a little bit of a chore, but now I almost can't wait and I find myself thinking about the things that are bothering me a little more completely - so that I have something to write down. It's done me a world of good in terms of clearing out my head and giving me focus.
I’m on a dating hiatus, but I’ve always been a hopeless romantic and a big believer in love. My downfall, if it should be called that, is that I have always struggled with differentiating between a nice person, and the right person. Generally, when I meet someone I like, I start dating them immediately – only to realize later that while I love them as friends, we aren’t a perfect match. The down fall is that instead of getting “better at dating”, I only get more disillusioned, and with each failed attempt the absence of True Love is felt all the more strongly.

The reason I am pulling back from the dating world is because I need to figure out what the difference between "nice" and “right” is, and where I should draw the line. Ironically, I expect I will be more focused on love now that I am stepping away from it. I hope the outcome of this experiment will be a wiser, stronger me with the faith and patience to wait for Mr. Right.

The Holiday

There is something very soothing about going to see a good chick flick with a bag of popcorn and M&M's (my personal guilty pleasure) and "The Holiday" definately delivered. While it's not the best movie I've seen, a few soul shattering shots of Jude Law and the sappy enough storyline left me in a mushy heap with not a few tears unshed.

The magic of romantic comedies is that they show you a world in which people are inherently good and where you can be loved for your quirks. Anyone who's been in the dating world knows that it's easier to form self-protecting generalizations about the opposite sex than to lay yourself bare to a stranger. Yet, to believe these movies, it's precisely what we find unfit about ourselves that should attract the perfect mate.

Last night I went to see Stomp and was blown away. 90 minutes wasn't nearly long enough I found. It was amazing to me how a show with not one word could have me laughing out loud, dancing in my seat and following a 'plot'.

There were two parts that stood out the most, one number with newspapers and another with water filled metal sinks. During the entire performance, I kept on thinking about how cool their brainstorm meetings must be: "Hmmmm, what can we bang into, in sync, that will sound cool THIS time?". Well, all I can say is, if Cirque Du Soleil doesn't pan out, I'm running away to join Stomp.

La Corrida ~ Francis Cabrel

Tonight I finally understood the lyrics to this song. I have been listening and loving it for years, but until now I struggled to understand it's deeper meaning in relation to my life.

The lyrics are inside, but to briefly sum it up, it's a story about a bull in a corrida wondering what he is doing and why he has to defend himself against the torreadors.

Lately, I have been struggling to come to terms with what I am doing and where I am headed. Often, my current situation feels as surreal, and sometimes even as fatal, as the bullring feels to the bull. What so many others take seriously, I can't begin to concentrate on because it all appears too forced, not real. While I long for my "Andalucia", the bullring and all it's expectations hold me in and I am forced to dance the steps of a song I have not chosen.

(Lyrics inside)

I love my coffee. Without it I can barely function or make it through the day. But it's precisely that fog that induces my most profound daydreams and thoughts - and I kind of like that. It makes me far more creative and introspective, and even if I seem like a half-wit to the rest of the world, inwardly I think I'm brilliant.

Of course there is a catch - no matter how great my thoughts are, I don't have the energy to write them down, and invariably, I forget them. It kind of begs the question, "To java, or not to java?"
As an illustration of my total ignorance of anything basketball related, the other day I was all excited to be going to a "Red Bulls" game...

Even I realize how pathetic that makes me.

My little Umpa Lumpa

I've just come back from a very needed vacation with my family. I enjoyed every minute of it, but now that I am back home, I realize how important it is for me to be in my own enviornment. It's here, among my books and the objects that carry memories that I can do my best thinking. And these days, with all I have to figure out, I need as much comfort as I can muster.

I feel that these next few weeks or even months, I will need to withdraw further inward and deeper into my own private world. Over the past few years I have changed over and over, lived so many different lives, and now, it's time to gather all my experiences and make sense of them. It's time to dig through and find myself.

All I Want ~ Jehro

Oh she is watching me,
And her eyes they flow,
With fond and tender pain,
I know,
Fate laid out a road,
We have walked alone
(And) yet we meet again,
Now I know finally,
I've never been alone,
I just couldn't see,
That like,
The swirling of the sea,
Lies a mistery,
That brings me back to you,
Oh, We put round our world,
Chains that we denied,
Yes we dreamed that we,
Were free,
And this was our downfall,
With no place to go,
We drift eternally,
I know finally,
I've never been alone,
I just couldn't see,
That like,
The swirling of the sea,
Lies a mistery,
That brings me back to you.
*Be clear about what you're seeking

*Be methodical and intelligent about your practice

*Be creative

*Listen to the experts

*Eliminate what's not working

*Practice patience

*Seek stillness

*Set aside twice as much time and money as you think you'll need
One of my New Year's resolutions (or wishes) is to escape to Salema, Portugal for a few months. It just looks heavenly and peaceful. Idealy I'd like to make it out there in April or May and stay of for about six months. Nothing but me, a backpack and a typewriter. No books, no email, no phone. Just good old fashioned letters and postcards back to my loved ones. Then, after six months, I'd like to travel north to Porto and walk to Santiago de Compostela to complete the pilgrimage I have been wanting to make for years.


This morning, on my way to work, I gave $1 to a woman holding a carboard sign on the street. As I rolled my window back up, almost before I could feel good about it - I started thinking about what I had just done.

1. I was ashamed that giving only a dollar could begin to make me feel charitable. It's hardly a sacrifice to me, and definately doesn't go a long way for any one.

2. I never give money to anyone on the street in America but felt moved to do so because it was a woman asking for help.

3. I never would have done it if I wasn't sitting in the warm comfort of my car at a red light with a dollar handy.

There's no real conclusion to my experience, except that maybe I could deal with a little help in helping others.

Natural Curiosities

I just found this wonderful set of biological prints that I can't wait to frame and put up on my walls. I was talked out of the volume I really wanted by a friend (the one of insect prints), and so I am now the proud owner of 14 assorted coral species prints. I can't say how much I love them enough.

Now if I can only do something about the awful neon green I painted mmy living room, I'll be on my way to having a home I can truely feel good about.

(I'd have loved a set of the marine creatures as shown above, but sadly, couldn't find them...)


I had my first swing dance "lesson" the other night - and I loved it. It's such a carefree, fun style of dancing. The music makes you really want to get up and shake it, and as far as I'm concerned anything you can dance to with a partner is a bonus.

On a semi-similar note, dancing is such a big part of my life that I've often wondered if I could date someone who didn't like to dance. And dancing with other people is so not an option because 95% of the fun of dancing is the seduction... which, obviously, shouldn't be there if your dancing with someone other than your SO.

As a remedy to my frustration, I've taken up solo dance classes like flamenco and belly dancing... But I don't know if I could keep that as a long term substitution. There is something so wonderful in being in sync with your partner both on and off the dance floor that I love.
I am a very different person from who I was last year. While I still believe in love, I advance with a new sense of caution. There was a time in my life when my need to believe in it precipitated feelings for people too quickly, and mostly in a very "smoke and mirrors" way. I created my own version of relationships which had little to do with reality but was thick with the magic of romance. Looking back I realize that not only did I cheat myself out of true emotions, but that in the process I hurt many of those I cared the most about by beckoning them into my dream of love.

I can't take those actions back, but I can say that I have changed. It's almost as if my eyes have opened and I feel capable of waiting for what I've pretended at for so long.


Find that flame, that existence,
That wonderful Man
Who can burn beneath the water.
No other kind of light
will cook the food you

I remember a sad town
And a cold night,
And the lit window of a train...
And that train departing
Taking away something of me;
I no longer remember when...
I no longer remember who;
But I do remember that it was a trip
For a lifetime,
And that the last gesture
Was a gesture of disdain
Because it left behind it's love
Without farewell...
Like a suitcase,
Left on the platform

--Luis Cernuda
"Do not always try to be consistent. Saint Paul, after all, said, "The wisdom of the world is madness in the eyes of God." To be consistent is always to wear a tie that matches one's socks. It is to have the same opinions tomorrow as one has today." -- Paolo Coehlo

What a relief that is!
Advanced Global Personality Test Results

Extraversion 56%
Stability 53%
Orderliness 56%
Accommodation 56%
Interdependence 56%
Intellectual 56%
Mystical 90%
Artistic 90%
Religious 56%
Hedonism 56%
Materialism 83%
Narcissism 50%
Adventurousness 50%
Work ethic 43%
Self absorbed 76%
Conflict seeking 50%
Need to dominate 30%
Romantic 90%
Avoidant 56%
Anti-authority 36%
Wealth 36%
Dependency 70%
Change averse 63%
Cautiousness 70%
Individuality 56%
Sexuality 50%
Peter pan complex 70%
Physical security 70%
Physical fitness 77%
Histrionic 50%
Paranoia 63%
Vanity 83%
Hypersensitivity 83%
Female cliche 76%

Stability results were medium which suggests you are moderately relaxed, calm, secure, and optimistic.

Orderliness results were moderately high which suggests you are, at times, overly organized, reliable, neat, and hard working at the expense of flexibility, efficiency, spontaneity, and fun.

Extraversion results were moderately high which suggests you are, at times, overly talkative, outgoing, sociable and interacting at the expense of developing your own individual interests and internally based identity.


Today I made up with a long lost friend. Actually, we probably made peace with each other a long time ago, but it's taken us several months to speak. He gets all the credit for the first move too.

What's funny is that I have actually forgotten the argument that caused all of this. I never want something that silly to break up any of my friendships again.

So, Friend, here's to keeping in touch.

Oh... and, I'm sorry.

I painted my living room last night, and when I woke up this morning I was shocked and heartbroken by the color I chose. To call it bright would be an understatement. My skin literally glows green everytime I walk into the room.

It's not a big deal, I'll just have to paint over it with a less electrifying hue, but it does give me reason to doubt my abilities as an interior designer.

Although, to my credit, the other two colors I chose are beautiful...

When I was younger we spent our summers sailing to this space between two islands we called "le plongeoir". The cliff was jagged with many levels. Each day we climbed higher until finally we were diving from the very top, an exhilerating, terrifying distance from the sea. From the greater heights, you could see very clearly what lay beneath the surface: a glorious green and blue world of sand and boulders. It always seemed like we would come crashing into them, but no matter how perfect and deep the dive we never touched the bottom.

True Skill

The yogi Raman was a true master of the art of archery. One morning, he invited his favorite disciple to watch a display of his skill. The disciple had seen this more than a hundred times before, but he nevertheless obeyed his teacher.

They went into the wood beside the monastery and when they reached a magnificent oak tree, Raman took a flower which he had tucked in his collar and placed if on one of the branches.

He then opened his bag and took out three objects: his splendid bow made of precious wood, an arrow and a white handkerchief embroidered with lilacs.

The yogi positioned himself one hundred paces from the spot where he had placed the flower. Facing his target, he asked his disciple to blindfold him with the embroidered handkerchief.

The disciple did as his teacher requested.

'How often have you seem me practise the noble and anciet sport of archery?' Raman asked him.

'Everyday,' replied his disciple. 'And you have always managed to hit the rose from three hundred paces away.'

With his eyes covered by the handkerchief, the yogi Raman placed his feet firmly on the ground, drew back the bowstring with all his might - aiming at the rose placed on one of the branches of the oak tree - and then released the arrow.

The arrow whistled through the air, but it did not even hit the tree, missing the target by an embarrassingly wide margin.

'Did I hit it?' said Raman, removing the handkerchief from his eyes.

'No, you missed it completely,' replied the disciple. 'I thought you were going to demonstrate to me the poer of thought and your ability to perform magic.'

'I have just taught you the most important lesson about the power of thought,' replied Raman. 'When you want something, concentrate only on that: no one will ever hit a target they cannot see.'
Today's the day for boldness, wounded heart.
In loving (him), there's no room to be distant.
Whatever logic holds, put that aside.
Now's the time for madness, right this instant.

#432: From Rumi's Kolliyaat-e Shams-e Tabrizi
Edited by Badiozzaman Forouzanfar (Tehran, Amir Kabir, 1988).

Fistful of love by Antony and the Johnsons

Powered by CastpostI was lying in my bed last night staring
At a ceiling full of stars
When it suddenly hit me
I just have to let you know how I feel
We live together in a photograph of time
I look into your eyes
And the seas open up to me
I tell you I love you
And I always will
And I know you can't tell me
I know you can't tell me

So I'm left to pick up
The hints, the little symbols of your devotion
So I'm left to pick up
The hints, the little symbols of your devotion

And I feel your fists
And I know it's out of love
And I feel the whip
And I know it's out of love
And I feel your burning eyes burning holes
Straight through my heart
It's out of love
It's out of love

I accept and I collect upon my body
The memories of your devotion
I accept and I collect upon by body
The memories of your devotion

And I feel your fists
And I know it's out of love
And I feel the whip
And I know it's out of love
And I feel your burning eyes burning holes
Straight through my heart
It's out of love, ooh hoo
It's out of love

Give me a little bit serious love
Give me a little full love
Be full of love

Fists, fists, fists full of love...

Ma tete

Il pleut depuis hier mais c'est une pluie magique de crystale. Lumineuse! Elle eclate de douceure.

Everything I reach out for becomes within grasping range


This weekend I went to the Opera to see Bizet's Carmen. Although this was far from being a great performance, I came away admiring Carmen's character. Known for being a beauty, Carmen arouses men's interests by her playful disenchantment. She is fiercely proud, but passionate to the point of danger. Her heart opens widely to each of her lovers and she is above the scruples of society, moving on once the magic is over. Far from being a loose woman, Carmen is honest enough to recognize the limits of a human heart and refuses to live a lie in any man's arms. She prefers to stay free even if it means pain, disreputation, and even, ultimately death.

I have not made up my own mind on these matters. There are days when I wish to be as free as Carmen: abandoning myself for each love then moving on once the last ember of passion has blown out. And then, quite as fiercely, I crave a stabler romance that can withstand the storms of the heart and conquer time with it's steadfastness.

I suppose that in order to make up my mind about this, I have to define love for myself. Does love, like Shakespeare wrote, look "upon tempests and is never shaken?" Or is it the very thing that creates storms washing away the cares of the world in a violent night of winds and rains before abating at dawn?

Tradition dictates the former. We are bred to aspire to marriage and a partnership with one person. The image of marital bliss is enriched with shared triumphs and surmounted trials. We are taught to see merit in endurance. Those who sing the praises of monogamy speak of family and also of the time freed to seek out wisdom from other sources, to devote the energy we would have spent on amorous pursuit on loftier ideals. I suppose I have to agree with this, seduction is very taxing business and leaves very little time to anything else. Our minds, hearts and bodies, once removed from the game of love, have a chance to grow outside of our relationship. But is this not the very thing that should make lifelong partnership all the harder? Do we not, once we grow, grow apart? It seems to me that the second option of freed passion makes natural sense: for once the love we shared with another has run out, it should push us on to someone more suited to our new evolved personas.

Of course the life of freed passion has it's perils too: it is pock marked with heartbreak and the end could very well spell years of loneliness. But along the way the ups and downs of romantic entaglements color our lives and allow us the freedom to pursue not only our hearts' desires but also the cravings of our minds, souls and bodies. For, which each new love, we are introduced to an entirely new world filled with another's experience and richness.

There is a point in Carmen where she faces this very choice. Don Jose re-appears in her life and begs her to return to him and the life they had together. To her the choice is clear: no matter how uncertain her future with Escamillo, her new lover, is, she prefers it to the predictability of live with Don Jose. So much, that she is willing to die for it.

This is all for the sake of arguement since, I do believe in everlasting, enduring love. I have not found it yet, which perhaps makes me wonder about the merits of passing fancies...


L'Amour est un oiseau rebelle
Que nul ne peut apprivoiser
Et c'est bien en vain qu'on l'appelle,
S'il lui convient de refuser.

Rien n'y fait, menace ou prière,
L'un parle bien, l'autre se tait;
Et c'est l'autre que je préfère
Il n'a rien dit; mais il me tient.

L'Amour est un oiseau rebelle
Que nul ne peut apprivoiser
Et c'est bien en vain qu'on l'appelle
S'il lui convient de refuser

L'Amour est enfant de Bohême,
Il n'a jamais, jamais connu de loi,
Si tu ne m'aime pas, je t'aime,
Si je t'aime, prend garde à toi!

(Prends garde à toi)
Si tu ne m'aime pas si tu ne m'aimes pas je t'aime
(Prends garde à toi)
Mais si je t'aime si je t'aime prends garde à toi!

Face au monde; seule.

Je poses la question: “Est-il la, est-il pres, mon prince charmant?”
Et l’Univers me reponds: “Non, maintenant tu dois passer l’epreuve de la solitude.”

Self Portrait

... and I look like a deer caught in the headlights...