my manhattan: central park in bloom, green food, new friends.

the room, following the (non) move.

somehow a headboard seemed important before. a crown for the bed--a talisman of something grown-up, adulthood, if you will.

the bed is smooshed against the wall now. no headboard. up and off to the right hangs my framed casablanca poster, placed there because there was already a nail and so, why not? and somehow this somewhat careless arrangement works. seems just as it should.


i wasn't terribly careful arranging this space. i pushed my bed into the one corner, the bookshelf into the other, placed the dresser against the not-to-be-used-french-doors, and stuck my desk just where i knew it would go: between the windows. as for my reading chair? it swims in this space and i wouldn't have it any other way. i pull it this way for mornings and push it that way for late evenings and let it rest between bookshelf and door for much of the rest.

as i sit here typing this a mug sits on the ledge of the window next to my bound leather journal that tells the story of the end of high school into the much of my first year at college. i've been going through it of late. marveling at the pure drivel that is most of it and sending up multitudinous prayers that no one ever finds it. in reading it so much feels familiar, cyclical to life now. this is...humbling, to say the least. because i feel like a different person. am i not? am i the same as i ever was? eighteen all over again?

i don't think so. some thoughts and feelings are bound to reverberate for much of my life, but i feel like i've come out of some period of darkness transformed.

this transformation is its own struggle, or, well, challenge. i feel new. and different. and while at times exhilarating, this newness is also terrifying. here i am, twenty-five forced to reacquaint myself with the world and my surroundings as a changed person.

the thing is, in this new room, it all feels possible. is it possible for something to be more than you ever imagined? is it possible that i know this already? that the space is charged. holy, even. i swing the double doors open, i pull up all the blinds, i open the windows, i watch the river. i press my feet into the patterned wood floor. and this, all of this, makes the A train bearable. the neighbors are slowly learning my name and i am slowly making friends with their dogs. the coffee shop is still on the corner, an irish pub is opening across the street, and the trees are in bloom, pink against the palisades. slowly, i'm coming round to this life in new york. slowly i'm forgiving myself. for feeling like i've not done enough-- come far enough. slowly i'm learning the only person i have to reckon with is myself. slowly i'm persisting, making goals, learning to say yes. inch by inch there is life in this room, in this neighborhood, in the city, in myself.

yes, slowly there is life. and i am in love with it.

easter 2011

this easter i attended mass at a church i'd never before been. i sat there in the foreign pews and thought of all the churches before this one. of my catholic upbringing--of how deeply ingrained it is, of its cultural power and pull. i sat in those foreign pews and cried sweet, repentant tears as i marveled at the feelings of deep loneliness and love and uncertainty and utter happiness that existed all at once. the wonder of that--of the complexity and absurdity and absolute loveliness of this life!

easter was  divine. i felt God in my morning service and its accompanying salt-tears. i felt Him in the walk from 175 to 181st. in my chai latte and the clean apartment newly made home. i felt Him in the warmth of my friends' greetings and the communion of old friends meeting new (sometimes i can't believe how many good people i know).  

the egg-dye, egg-hunt, and egg-wars were all just icing on the proverbial cake. 

(and yes, my fingers as i type this are still blue. and might just be for days to come. time will tell. what can i say, i take my art {all art} seriously).

my manhattan: blue skies and scarves and half-full mugs.

my manhattan: photos new and old.

preparing to move down the hall has turned my room into something of a disaster. 

why? well...you see, i like to sit and cull through it all--remarking and remembering and smelling old pages. but this culling and smelling and such moves at a snail's pace and isn't terribly effective--so i'm about two seconds from pulling out trash bags and dumping half of everything i own.

but i will say, it has served to get me to look through my college, hand-written journal (please lord don't let anyone ever find it. pure drivel.) as well as my quickly accumulating photos. so for this week's my manhattan i thought i'd show a few new and old (those that for whatever reason never made the cut back in the day, but i love nonetheless).

1. the george washington bridge from my morning walk vantage point. fall 2009.

2. waxing poetic in queens. spring 2011.

3. waiting for the A at 168. spring 2011.

4. outside the bowery ballroom. winter 2011.

5. restaurant decor on 187th. fall 2009.

6. this week's bathroom shot. spring 2011.

7. wandering around downtown. winter 2010.

8. noah and the whale at the bowery. winter 2011.