Dance...

Life is good when a walk becomes a dance. The paced motion escalating, building to the uncontrollable action of head bobbing, feet pass the traditional straight line, hands gesturing to music that begs your feet to tap and your mouth to smile as preteens turn their heads on their way home from school and stare at the crazy adult who doesn't have a care in the world.

It's a good day when you can make a kid laugh. Really make them laugh, make them mimic your actions. They think they're laughing at you, and if they are, Who cares? Really laughing at life and realizing it's all about having a good time is the best.

Why not have fun? Why be so composed? Give me the sounds of old school big band swing music and I can't stop myself, I have to dance no matter where I am or who I'm near. More people should do this. Stand up and dance. Dance for blue skies, dance for the cup of coffee that gives you the energy to go through the day, dance for whatever reason you want. Just dance. Feel the body sway and see how your mode changes. Tell me you don't feel a bit out of place. Tell me that awkward emotion doesn't make you laugh. Dance and everything--all stress and frustration--washes away.

Today is a good day.

To Err is Human...

Right?

Many questions have been going through my mind as of late. Non of which need posting here, but truthfully I want to know what we're doing? What is the story you want to tell?

I keep thinking of different things, and lately my mind has been a bit boggled by emotions, questions, and the what not.

I know I shouldn't say this, but whiskey became my friend awhile back and I haven't turned around since.

On my walk home tonight, I looked at all the passing cars, the people on the street, the trees changing suit from winter garb to spring, and I thought, "I need to write more."

To be a writer... well that's a tricky enough business. And isn't that what it all is? Business. People are in your business, your trying to show your business, and well... you pretty much just stumble around hoping to find your way, your voice, yourself.

The business of self discovering can be tricky. Lets not forget the moment in the Neverending Story where Atreyu is about to step foot in front of the second Oracle. It's the Oracle that shows the true self, and lets face it, do any of us really want to see it?

I think of myself as a kind person. A person that can relate and empathise with others. But really, I'm out there fighting. Fighting for me. For what I want.

But what I want, I haven't clearly defined yet. And above anything, this scares me. Because at the moment, I feel reckless. I feel as though I'm playing with fire and about to set the biggest fire storm known to man.

I am one lone girl, lady, woman... or whatever you want to say. But in my mind right now, I'm a child trying to put the puzzle pieces together. And I don't know if they're fitting. So I use a proverb to make myself feel better...

To err is human...

Right?

And is it ever truly an err?...

.....Pause....

Winter is coming. The snow has not blanketed the ground yet, but the chill is in the air. And I will admit I'm awaiting the first large snow fall that turns everything white.

Today was one of those days.

One you just have to cherish for its grandness of simplicity.

A day that makes you pause, and think of all the amazing things that take place in a day.

I woke and began the day slow, a nice hot shower. Then I saw an amazing image a friend had taken of me (and found worthy to post to his site) on-line. It made me think how greatly talented people are.

Next, it was off to sip on a cup of joe (or as the baristas know: a small latte with almond flavouring). I relaxed with the warming beverage and read to the end of Dickens "A Christmas Carol," as I ate a cranberry scone. I continued the day sitting and talking with a new friend while I knitted away at a project.

Then on my drive home, I saw a man on the street. A man a friend had told me she had seen just days ago. He was homeless (or merely out on the street for the day), holding one of those card board signs marked in Black Sharpie ink. He was so merry as he danced to and fro with it.

It had one word: SMILE. And smile I did.

Home was a "Girls Night." Or I guess I should say, we came to see it that way.

miss georgia b. dyed my hair black, and we gossipped the time away, pizza from The Pie, and a cheesy movie, followed by more talking.

As she left, I felt chocolate was in order, so I entered the lightly biting air of near winter and walked in the quiet night streets listening to music. A song came on I couldn't quite place, and when I looked to see what it was, I laughed.

Sometimes friends you only know for a short while have sent you things you will cherish for a lifetime. I walked out of the convenience store with my chocolate, humming away to the music, and saw a woman sitting in her car and smiled to her. I walked back home listening to the song over and over again.

Sometimes we just have to pause and remember: We are all here, why not enjoy each others company, even if just for a small encounter.

SMILE everyone :)

Still Photos in Motion...

It has to start out this way.

When I was five, I remember vividly unwrapping my birthday present in bed. My parents sat on opposite sides of that twin sized mattress awaiting my delight.

And delight it was. For underneath the wrapping paper was my very first camera. A 1984 Fisher Price: deep blue, with durable black siding, and a large yellow button that let you know your shot was taken. It took 110 mm film and was topped with the gloriously large flash cube.

I've been addicted to photos ever since.

It was also the camera that taught me know matter how basic your materials, a person can capture and create amazing things.

And so, more than 25 years later, I found myself walking, finding a bench, and needing to document the emotions I couldn't control. Not having the Fisher Price Camera, I reached instead for my iPhone 3G and took a picture. The next night, I took a few more...followed by many more on many evening walks.

My Mom says I should entitle it, "Girl Waiting." I feel "Searching" is a more accurate word. For now though, I leave it untitled. Because though I have rendered this film, the creation process is never over.

4 months, a girl with an iPhone and two walking feet (typically protected by Keen): This is what I created.

(Music is from the amazing local talents of the former SLC band Gerald Music "Are We Hyphenated?"

It all started with...

...a bit of bibbidi, bobbidi, boo.
I've been posting nursery rhymes on my Facebook page. (Don't ask how Disney's Cinderella started it all, I have no idea).

Who knows why, but fall seems to be the time to snuggle in ones bed, comforter close to their nose, two cats curled on opposite sides, and a story going through ones head. When I wake up, I think of the nursery rhyme that best fits my mood for the day, and I come up with status posts like this:

Tick-tock, tick-tock...the mouse ran up the clock...
Little Miss Muffet, sat on her tuffet, eating her curds and whey...
Baa, baa, black sheep. Have you any wool?...
Goosey, goosey, gander. Where shall I wander?...
Little Boy Blue, come blow your horn. The Sheep's in the meadows, the cow's in the corn...
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall. Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.

My Facebook friends must think a few bolts are loose in my head.


Most post music videos, political announcements, NPR's most current topics, or their recent photograph creations (Dave... I'm talking to you here. Love the black and white of Occupy L.A.).


And then there is me, spouting off nursery rhymes...????....???

I am a daydreamer people.
I daydream constantly.

I make up crazy stories about things I want to do in life, and hope one day I will. I hear things too (not in a crazy way--or maybe it is crazy--but anyway), clips of stories come to my brain and characters talk. I feel an urge to write them down, but I rarely want to get out of my bed, so they just simmer in my mind until I'm ready to lift the comforter and walk with them through my day.

Speaking of walking. It's fall, and that means: The Cons are on the street...

Last year I posted about these crazy shoes. And here they are out and about again. The young girl always comes back to me when I put these shoes on (remembering the three girls who made them what they are). And as they took me down a few paths last night, my mind wandered back to the nursery rhymes, but this time they were jumbled together forming their own story.

Tick-tock, tick-tock... Where shall I wander? With Little Miss Muffet, sitting on her tuffet... the mouse ran up the clock. While eating her curds and whey, Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall, waiting for the leaves to fall. Take a goosey, goosey gander.... the cow's in the corn...the sheep's in the meadow and Little Boy Blue is waiting to blow his horn. Baa, baa, black sheep... your wool is strung... and for now this song has been sung.

P.S. If you as a reader make any sense out of this post, please provide me your understanding.

I Blame the Italian in me...

Leaving work with a whopping eight dollars, creativity was needed in how to spend my earnings.

So a walk was called for and the "whopping" eight dollars found itself spent on a tea, and an orange danish thingamabob for an older gentleman in a wheelchair, who said he had diabetes, and hadn't had a thing to eat all day. (Sadly, I couldn't afford the double mocha frappuccino he requested--but we weren't at Starbucks either).

Being asked a week ago by a friend if I was trying to get him fat, I now realize I have more of that stereotypical Italian woman flowing through my veins than I thought. Eat, eat...I say. Though instead of pasta and risotto, I pass on pastries and baked goods.

MANGIA!!!

Yep, that's me.

And then walking the streets--money spent--I sang again at the top of my lungs, viewed the beauty of hidden flowers, almost got hit by a speed demon car--child in passenger seat and the father driving had the nerve to roll down his window while turning and tell me he saw me and not to stress--I proceeded to give him a piece of my mind and then I was home.

And I realized dinner would be the same as it had been the past two nights.

A bowl of Cheerios.

I hope the guy liked the orange danish thingamabob and it didn't send him into glucose shock.

Bawk...bawk...bawk...

So got Bawked at on my evening walk.

What is "bawked" you may be asking yourself?

It is the very loud sound of a chicken (bawk...bawk...bawk) coming from a human face, sticking out of an SUV that is speeding down the street rapidly.

Now what should one's response be to this?

Mine was to jump hysteraically and exclaim, "What the **** was that for?" (Yes I know, not the most profound statement or the best reaction. I'm working on this, I have never been good at responding to bawking noises. Never learned chicken in school you see.)

Now off for a drink... to calm the nerves.

Singing and Dancing

Tonight, after a late night of work, I strolled the darkened streets of beautiful SLC.
The stars were crisp and clear in the near Fall night air.
My legs strutted their way down the hill in tall black boots (flip flops are gone sadly).
And I was walking/dancing with a hot mint tea in my hand.

I was also singing at the top of my lungs to the all powerful music of Adele (her album 21).

I find it liberating to sing into the void of the night. I may or may not be in tune, but it's the vibration of my voice echoing through the silent city streets that makes me keep moving. And then you happen to run into people and you have to ask yourself, "Do I stop singing? Or do I just belt out the lyrics louder?" I went with louder.

I have to laugh at the response people (or cats) gave as I walked past singing and dancing. Expressions of oddity take over their face. Either they look at you quizzically, thinking "that girl must be crazy." Or you see a smile come across their face. (If by chance you spot a cat, they usually just try to rub against your leg, in the hope they may be pet. And when done with that they walk away, tail in the air with not a care in the world--as cats always do.)

The person's smile makes me think, we all need to go out and sing and dance as we walk life's crazy path. Why hide your voice? Why not sing to the mountains, the trees, the cats and dogs? Why not sing for ourselves and those around us?

I can not come up with a reason people might find me crazy as I sing and dance to my own beat. (I mean lets face it: It's my own beat!!!) We should all do this. So I say to you tonight, "Go out... Sing a song... Let everyone hear your voice. Let yourself hear your voice."

I will tell you, a smile will come across your face and you will feel like skipping down the street when people laugh at you.

Trees grow

I attempted to watch the trees grow tonight. Maybe I'm not in the right mind set, but all they did was breath with the tiny amount of wind on the air.

So light and at ease.

On my evening walk, I took a detour. A detour I don't know will be beneficial or destructive. Currently, it feels like life is playing in frames, missing that small 1/2 second which fills the void, making everything play in unison.

But I tried to watch the trees grow. See how their orchestra plays. Still the stairs and archways seemed so far away. I made it to my bench mark (tripping only twice) and all seemed at peace.

Peace. This a word I haven't felt in myself for sometime now. Yet, it is beginning to resonate strong. I hope it continues. I hope the leaves and limbs will sing their song, and let me listen.

And if anything, I will always follow the path of my feet. For they know how to guide me throughout all of life's elaborate webs.

Walking Life's Path

So tonight, I decided to do something a bit different with all those random videos I tend to take while on vacation. Hope you enjoy!

Music taken from Tom Hagerman's CD.

Walking with my Cons.

As I walked to my regular coffee shop today, I stared down at my feet as they padded the cement sidewalk descending downhill. I wondered to myself: How long should one keep a pair of shoes?

You see lately, a lot of things have been going through my mind (and as I'm sure my friends could tell you I have been a bit preoccupied with my life and thoughts). But back to the shoes. My Cons. have been with me ever since 9th grade (though I should say I got them in 8th grade, the same day I received my first "grounding" from my parents--Crystal and I did the whole "we're staying at each others house" bit--which should have been a huge indicator that the shoes wouldn't fit and I would have to wait a whole year to receive the right size).

Anyhoo... these shoes have lasted through running, river wading, choir practice with three girls writing and drawing on them until all the white rimmed plastic was covered in art and ridiculous sayings, concerts, hiking, and well all that and more for 14 years. And the miracle of miracle is--they still fit.

So when do you throw a pair of shoes away? Especially, a pair of shoes that still retains the faded drawings and conversations of three young girls that called each other friends. If you have an answer to this random thought of mine please respond. If you are as perplexed as me ask a friend.

Celebrating 30 and a walk on Cannon Beach.

Yes, it's true. I am now thirty. For my birthday it was drinks and a very heated Catch Phrase competition. A week later, I continued my celebration in Oregon. Walking the beach, listening to the waves wash on shore, and working on getting acquainted with my book again.

Besides finding out that I need to get my wisdom teeth out, and the massive tooth pain while on vacation, 30 is going great from the start. Enjoy the photos.