In Between

I came home late last night and he points me to the hallway I'd just walked through. You want me to... leave? I look back and see something new, an addition that wasn't there before. I walk over and instantly recognize it as the last Tugboat print I was pining over in my last post, The Iceberg. He'd read my blog and my not-so-subtle hint and he actually bought it for me! He even looked through all the rest of the items in their shop to be sure that's the one I'd really like. Smitten, with him for listening, and the poster for being pure awesome.


What I love most about the poster is that it's beyond that, the idea of "what's below the tip of the iceberg". I observe the meticulous detail required to design the piece and then to register chunks of wood to precision... I love feeling that part of the art -- the making part, the part that makes it made. Good job, Tugboat!

Woodblock prints by Paul Roden + Valerie Lueth of Tugboat Printshop in Pittsburg, PA. I would kill for any of these pieces, esp the last one. *cough* jason *cough* .

Did you hear that huge sigh of relief? I just got back from lunch and sun basking in the park, hands down  my top favorite thing to do alone. The weather has bummed me out to the max, and then here comes the sun, soaking my pant threads like a sauna. So warm. So worth it. Today's people-watching treat was a couple of guys practicing back flips.



Speaking of sun, my friend is convincing me to go to Belize with her next month for a few days. Flights are less than $600 round trip. Should I do it? We could stay here; more photos here.

HMMMMMMMMM.....

I've apparently written this somewhere before, but I can't find the post anywhere, so I'm posting again. And even though I haven't been consistent with my Series, I'm establishing this one today.

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Each one of us is connected. Some of us on many many levels. This entry is inspired by Mayu Ishikawa and Lola Muldrew.

In my recent years of life I've shared probably thousands of private experiences. By private, you curious monkeys, I mean a connection that is mutually recognized as a connection, and occurs between two people. Whether it be profound or futile, long or momentary, productive or lazy, it's understood as a legit experience, and registered.

Now (the plot thickens), the exciting part is that I can walk away from that private experience feeling a certain way, but the other person could very well walk away from that very same experience feeling completely opposite! That truth fascinates me and baffles my mind. That I could feel something completely independent of another person's knowledge and so it will be until I give them, and myself, permission to share that feeling. They'd never know otherwise. And the same goes the other way. Now for the depressing truth: such confessions almost never happen.

This program's focus is Sharing. Be honest and open with the people who are gracious enough to share their lives with you. Would you want to know if you changed my life with a seemingly insignificant act? Would you want to know what part of you has become a part of me? I would. We all would. I want to practice this for the rest of my life.

So, to start, I will be taking the time to "confess" an anonymous connection I've had here on IBD. It will take energy, time and concentration, but so does anything and everything else that matters (funny that the acronym for "energy time and concentration" is "etc", as if it's common procedure). Without names, know that I write to you. Yes, you, because you changed my life that one fine day.

You will know who you are.

Today, a quote:

"I must learn to love the fool in me--the one who feels too much, talks too much, takes too many chances, wins sometimes and loses often, lacks self-control, loves and hates, hurts and gets hurt, promises and breaks promises, laughs and cries. It alone protects me against that utterly self-controlled, masterful tyrant whom I also harbor and who would rob me of human aliveness, humility, and dignity but for my fool."

-- Theodore I. Rubin, MD