joy

to friends around the world:

merry christmas
joyeux noël
feliz navidad
froehliche weihnachten
mele kalikimaka
hyvaa joulua

or whatever else you want to call it…

“For unto us a Child is born,
Unto us a Son is given;
And the government will be upon His shoulder.
And His name will be called
Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.”
-Isaiah 9:6

diamond ring

You said that you would not love me last summer 
And you said that you would not love me last spring 
But I hoped that you would change your mind by autumn 
Especially when I bought that diamond ring 
But you still said no 
You would not have me 
You still said no, no, no 

I heard that you’ve been sleeping with your old friends 
And I heard when each one left, and broke your heart 
I told you then that I would never leave you 
I told you that I loved you from the start 
You still said no 
You wouldn’t have me 
You still said no, no, no 

Even though you haven’t any answers
You still think that you don’t need anyone
To save you from the mess that you’ve created
And even when I gave my only son
You still said no
You wouldn’t have me
You still said no, no, no
-pedro

snow day

It’s not like I have school right now. Or a weekday job. Or any of those “responsibilities” which make one crave a snow day.

But the advantage I currently have is that I can declare a snow day whenever. I. want.

And so, amidst all this snowy and icy goodness, I have been holed up in my cozy little yellow “cottage,” warm and toasty and quite content. I’ve been reading and baking and photographing and napping and writing and researching and cleaning and watching Joyeux Noël and listening to Sufjan’s Christmas albums and painting (?!) on boxes of imported Italian breadsticks – and just simply living.

I have enjoyed it all so much, I think I’ll schedule snow days year round.

winter air

Have you ever noticed that the air of every season feels so different to breathe? Spring air is crisp and dewy; as light as the delicate flowers which stretch their arms above the entrenches of soil. Summer is thick and sultry;  a honey warmed by the lofty rays of the sun. Fall is crisp as well, but woodsy and smokey, with the zephyr of a sweet and subtle harvest. But winter is my favorite, for it is the most shameless and barefaced. Winter is sharp, harsh, and raw. It is not delicate, nor soothing, nor nostalgic. You feel – and see – each breath acutely. Yet the sharpness of winter air makes you feel the life in each breath, while it is quietly concealed in the agreeable nature of the other seasons. And it mirrors the design of existence as a whole. After all, the preciousness of life is seen most acutely in context to the least pleasant situations, like the contrast of a diamond to a stone. 

So, take a deep breath.

hahahahaha

snow!

SERIOUSLY.

Could I please, just for once, be able to get the thoughts and ideas trapped in my head into some tangible, understandable, communicable, expressible form?!

yeah, so…

- I have a the horrible temptation to spend exorbitant amounts of money on dinner parties
- I got my first Christmas tree of my very own. A real one. At 11pm. The day after Thanksgiving. Because I was too excited.
- I have lots and lots of free time, but know it will be ending soon
- I have the desire to watch the movie Elf, but I don’t really like renting movies
- I hate lilies
- I reorganized my bookshelf, and now I can’t find anything
- I am trying to photograph and design and write and draw, and always feel inadequate at these attempts
- I am currently obsessed with yogurt and granola for breakfast. I used to be obsessed with hard-boiled eggs for breakfast. Who knows what’s next?!

And finally,
- I talk about myself a lot

lilies of death

Lilies used to be one of my favorite flowers. “Lillian” was even on my list of favorite names.

…but not so much anymore, because lilies also just killed my cat. She ingested some… and her kidneys failed. She became jaundiced. Her pupils were extremely dilated, and she appears to have had a petite mal seizure. So, I just arrived back from holding her as she died.

The strange thing is, my grandpa has always associated lilies with death as well. His mother’s name was Lillian, and she died when he was 6. Everyone brought lilies to the funeral.

I just hope there were no cats around.

growing up

Quite some time ago, I came to this conclusion about growing up:

You are still a kid, but you just start having to pay for everything.