In Between

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

Back from a long weekend in Tahoe -- came home and knocked out for five hours. I had a great time seeing everyone! (Thanks Peter for organizing again this year).

But right now, this song is the only thing I'm feelin' more than the watch worn by the girl in this video. Anyone have any ideas on where I can snag one of those?



via Max Wanger

http://www.grainsurfboards.com

Beautiful website, beautiful concept, beautiful photos.



Grain Surfboards offers wooden surfboard building classes right in our shop in York, Maine. You’ll learn alongside the same builders that craft our custom wooden surfboards from locally grown, sustainable white cedar. By the end of a Grain class, each student will walk away with their own hand-built, wooden surfboard.

Yesterday's conversations continued...

Me: Would you work if you didn't have to?

Him: Yeah, probably.

What would you do?

[Various ideas, including conducting a train across the country]

ooo, that would be chill.

Yeah, I could eat junk food all day.

No! I would be in the food car and make sure you eat healthy organic fresh foods all day.

What, you're going to bring me food every day?

No, I'd be working in the food car. You'd order a Big Mac, and I'd be like, no, you should have a fresh salad. And you'll be like, FIINNNEE and later you'll come back and be like, wow, that was pretty good, thank you, and then you'll come back every day and order a Big Mac and I'll give you a salad and you'll soon realize I do it because I love you and you realize you keep coming back knowing you won't get what you order because you love me and then one day you'll propose to me in the cap of a water bottle.

A water bottle?

Yeah, like Snapple. But we don't serve Snapple. Too much sugar.

I don't think Snapple tastes too sugary...

It's not about taste. 

and then the train comes and we go to work in silence.

A rough recall of this morning's conversation while walking through the brisk 6 AM air as we do every morning...

Him: I wish we had a helicopter to take us from our place to BART (the train station).

Me: Yeah... I'm sure helicopters take time to warm up though.

True...

But maybe we could auto-set the time so as soon as we wake up, it turns on and by the time we get to the roof it'll be warm and ready to drop us off and instead of wasting time landing we can rappel down to the station with like, ropes and stuff.

Are you sure you can do that?

Uh, yeah? Can you?

It's from pretty high up there, I'll need like 5 ropes secured to me.

Well, I'd make sure the auto pilot knows to get close to the sidewalk so we can basically step down.

Okay.

OR, we could just teleport.

Yeah, duh, why didn't we think of that? We could use the closet. Where would it drop us off at?

Inside the next train?

No, right at the front door of our work.

Yeah...OR, we could just quit our jobs and never leave our bed ever again.

Yeaaah, I like that one.
...

 To be continued.

So I know it's been a while since I last wrote about our new place. My apologies. These photos are of the first couple of weeks, and now, three months later, things are so different and more filled in.

This new apartment we're living in is a 'soft loft' and not knowing what that means is kind of silly of me. So I made up my own definition that may or may not be correct. A "soft loft" is mix between an apartment and a loft, whose differences are defined in space and ceiling height. This apartment feels like a loft because it has 9' 7" ceilings, and 7'3" tall windows, but feels like a regular apartment because it has separate rooms and carpet.

 But o boy the walls, the walls. I have never had to decorate a large wall like that before. Wait, no, I lie. My mom still gets on my case about my old bedroom, a wall of which I painted a dusty rose color and on top of that a dead white tree. Thing is, my roller couldn't reach all the way up to the 9 ft ceilings and so there's a good foot of ragged, uneven white space at the top. Momma was not happy.

We've painted the den a pretty pale blue, and a few walls bright white. I'd really like to paint a large canvas with Jase as one of our home projects we do together. Looking for inspiration, please shoot any and all beautiful ideas my way!

The hat. The dress. The bike. The view. The day. The life.



image by The Selby, my idol.

Ephemera.
Nostalgia.
Momentos.
Lovers.
Creme fraiche.
Personal space.