Our humanity was blessed with 5 ways to experience life (the five senses), but in our society beauty is most commonly assigned to what is visually appealing.  If one is asked to describe someone beautiful, all too often this person will describe each physically appealing quality: She has hair that shines in the sun, her skin the color of caramel, etc.
Rarely, if one is asked to describe someone beautiful, do they touch upon each of the senses… For example: Her skin is so beautiful, it feels like a soft peach.  Her voice is so beautiful to listen to; it is more soothing than a warm bath. She smells more beautifully than candles, or baking cookies, or Chanel. She is so beautiful that she has her own taste; a taste of which they should make candies after.
Needless to say there is nothing wrong with indulging in the physical beauty, but let us not neglect the beauty of all the other senses.  Those who are able to appreciate all five senses make for the best lovers, for they want to cater to each of your senses while indulging in your total beauty.
 
Quote:
Beauty?… To me it is a word without sense because I do not know where its meaning comes from nor where it leads to.  - Pablo Picasso
 
 
 
 

When things go wrong it is hard to remind yourself that the problem is not going to last forever; that even though it feels like it never is going to end, it will. My favorite Shakespeare quote is, “This too shall pass.” Simply because that is the one constant I have found in life… No matter the situation, good or bad, it will pass. So does that cliché, “Good things come to those who wait” become null if you follow Shakespeare’s words? Sure, good things come to those who wait, but that is because each state of being is essentially temporary.
 
Another reason I disagree with the saying, “Good things come to those who wait” is because it sounds as if you are just waiting around for the next thing to happen without working towards that good thing. I will say at least the saying isn’t, “Bad things will come to those who are busy” but that does seem to ring slightly true. It seems that I have the least amount of luck when I am the most proactive; I have never had a bad experience happen to me while I was sitting around waiting for something or someone.
 
When I have been proactive about my feelings for someone, sure enough, their inevitable disinterest in me occurs. If I would have waited would things have been different? Would there have been a good outcome? I don’t really think so, but I will continue in order to prove my point. When I was just waiting in line to buy a pack of gum back in April, I happened to find a $100 bill. It happened to be at a time when I was low on cash… Is this an example of a good thing happening to someone who was patiently waiting? I don’t think so. So often while I am busy doing one thing another thing will pass me by, if I had been waiting for that “good” thing would it have happened? Maybe, maybe not. I guess that’s when you throw in that other cliché, “everything happens for a reason.”
 
I do understand the real definition of the saying, that it is implied that you are working towards that goal while you are waiting for that “good thing.”
 
 
I have goals, but sometimes I make mistakes which create detours in my roads along the way. At times these detours will teach me more about myself than I ever could have realized and they teach me about the people in my life. They re-prioritize my priorities and make me realize how easily things can change what I have taken for granted. Small liberties taken away can result in big changes, ones I may never have noticed… Someone once told me that I wasn’t learning from my mistakes, but I don’t know how anyone can judge that except for me. Maybe they have learned something from the mistakes I have made and that something is inherently different than what I learned from the experience. I guess it makes sense that we each would take different things away from different experiences shared.
 
Oh well, I’m sure I’ll feel differently later.
 
Quote:
 
I may not be there yet, but I’m closer than I was yesterday.
 
 
 
 
 
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I was on the Internet, late (similarly to how I am now) when I received an instant message from a person I did not recognize. Usually when you receive an IM from someone you do not know it usually means one of three things:
1.)   They added you a long time ago when they were randomly stalking people one night.
2.)   They accidently IMed you
3.)   Trouble

I’ve been trying really hard to find a solo trumpet album, or a song even; just one sad, solo trumpet. Today, while at Barnes and Nobel I decided to add to my search a saxophone. I couldn’t find that either.
Isn’t that how it usually works though? People don’t find what they are looking for, they are supposed to find what they are supposed to find. Which can be what they are looking for, but a lot of times ends up being something totally different. And undeniably sometimes you end up with nothing, flat out nothing. But try and hold your breath and not be disappointed. Sometimes it is something you don’t realize that you need, and when it makes its way into your pocket (or your life) you realize, jeez I am way better with this here, than I ever was when I didn’t have it.
Today, I did find something. Chris Botti’s version of “Someone To Watch Over Me” Although not exactly how I pictured my solo trumpet song to sound, it definitely creates the feeling that I imagined it would. I actually feel the music and understand the music, whether I want to or not. Now that’s art, when the piece is able to grab you and turn you and pull you without you needing to give yourself to it. Even though you can’t really define art, I think that’s a close step in the right direction.
Today a dear friend of mine shared with me an explanation for certain types of people. She said she borrowed this from her other friend, but whatever… Someone, somewhere, said this. That the reason people get hooked on people who twist you about, and leave you knowing that things will never be more than what they are. Is because these people are CAPTIVATING. Be warned. These people are captivating and although they can easily swallow you, they aren’t the people you wind up with, but the people that fuck you up. They fuck you up because they make you believe that something is wrong with you. You may start to question yourself… doubt yourself… Why don’t they like me? Is it because I’m not skinny enough? Is it because I’m not artistic enough? Is it THIS Or That? No, no, no. “The problem isn’t you, it’s them…. “ or “it’s not you it’s me” Well, that’s what they say anyways. I can’t even learn this, but it’s happened so many times to me. I thought you’re supposed to learn how to avoid these situations. Isn’t the best teacher experience itself?
Here is my latest project; hopefully there will be more soon. I am going to create another blog where I explain why I chose the images I chose with the words I wrote.
First, a quote:
“Perhaps the most difficult choices to make are the ones that deny us what our heart wants most, because as it’s been said, without reason and without prudence, the heart wants what the heart wants, and more often than not, it will not be denied.” –Mary, In Plain Sight
 
 

Paul Newman is such an attractive man. I love looking at his pictures; he just has that look that I love in a guy. Masculine, yet clean cut. He looks like he can man handle you or treat you like a lady, depending on your mood. He has a timeless face and a smile which has made him irresistible throughout each phase of life.
 
People just looked differently back then (1940s-1960s). They had a classier flare, a certain style which seems to have died out when our grandparents turned 80.  
 
Another admirable trait that Paul Newman seems to have is his devotion to his wife. Or, I should say, their devotion to each other. A quote from his wife, Joanne Woodward (woman in picture above), ”Sexiness wears thin after a while and beauty fades, but to be married to a man who makes you laugh every day, ah, now that’s a real treat.”  It is remarkable to hear Woodward, who is married to arguably one of the most attractive men in American history, say that looks are in a sense overrated. It’s refreshing to hear that someone who married such an attractive man admits that even that fades away and ultimately is not enough to carry a relationship. We are such a visual culture, we think that because a person has a pretty face everything else will in turn be pretty. The truth is, at least for me, what makes a person beautiful has much more to do with what causes the sparkle in their eye, not their inherited beautiful face. It is sometimes very difficult to not buy into the package of what is beautiful, because we see it everywhere all of the time. I do enjoy looking at beautiful people, but there is nothing better than someone who can make you smile, Woodward is right.
When Paul Newman was asked how his marriage survives the temptations of Hollywood, he responded, “Why fool around with hamburger when you have steak at home?”

 
 
See for yourself:

In Robert Frost’s “Hyla Brook” he concludes his poem with, “We love the things we love for what they are.” But do we? Do we really love the things we love for what they are? I don’t know if that is necessarily true. Sure, maybe, sometimes we actually do love things for what they are, the good and the bad, the weird, the ugly, the pretty. There are times when all things considered we still love the thing we love, for what it is, not for who we want them to be, or who they once were. I have before; I’ve loved things for what they are. I do still now…
My favorite place to walk is up and down the random row of trees that are just right of the reflecting pool (if you are walking towards the Prudential Center). When you are in them you forget that you are in the city, kind of, and your only structure is this checkered path. This pathway works for any step, a staccato rhythm, a slow waltz, even a square dance. This evening I chose the slow waltz, a little hard to master when you’re going stag, but like anything else, you learn to manage.
 
Quote:
 
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question . . .
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.
- “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” T.S. Eliot

I’m feeling a little down. 

I am on my way to reach these goals of mine. 

I have been reading The Hours and it is a very powerful book. 

I started co-op.

Quotes from the book by Michael Cunningham:

I have started this new thing. When I work out, I like to do my cardio first because that is what I find the most trying. I like to get the difficult things out of the way in order to let myself know, it just is going to keep getting easier. Sometimes when I am running on the treadmill it feels like I am running downhill, but the way I interpret is that with each step I am closer to becoming who I want to be: a faster, stronger, sexier, irresistible, me.
Like I said I have started this new thing, where after I do my cardio and then my lifting and my stretching, I go back on the treadmill. I go back on the treadmill and I run a quarter mile as hard as I can. Why do I do this? To let out the frustrations in my life… The frustrations of the past: the things people have said to me, the things that have brought me down and left me feeling helpless, the things that I think about when new frustrations occur, the things that lead me to question my actions, my thoughts, my feelings. The potential frustrations of the future: the new people I meet who will have preconceived notions of who I am, where I have been, and where I want to go. And, of course, the frustrations of the present: the things that pull on the back strings of my mind when I feel like giving in, the things that cause self bewilderment, the things that push me to no longer be a joke to those who are fortunate enough to be the objects of my affection. I want to have the last laugh.
Oh and until then, my body cries sweat and my mind makes dreams of former setbacks. My soul works as a machine, it takes remarks, glances, and the will to succeed and compounds them into one and then feeds it to me for breakfast, lunch, dinner and those snacks in between. I feed myself on the need to be better, to be someone that my parents can say, “that’s my girl” and to be the girl that others girls say, “I wish she was my girl.” I want other people to be able to see the blacks of my eyes as symbols of the dark passion that rests under the genetic makeup of a carefree kid.

Summer in the suburbs reminds me of middle school. Barbeques, green grass, the dog that runs back in forth on the line, cooling off with the hose, getting the car washed, riding your bike around the block without worry, softball, the pool, crushes that you hope you run into now that school is out, sidewalk chalk and childhood best friends, playing catch with dad, the neighborhood kickball games, the Sunday parties at grandma’s house, finding golf balls, going to the games, dancing in the kitchen with mom, adventures with Angela, climbing trees, oreo milkshakes, and real family vacations.
I am sitting on the Atchue family deck under the shade of the large awning, and to my left there is a large grill with a nice piece of sausage crackling over the coals, and to my right Chunky the chocolate lab makes a bed near his dog house. When I look out towards the lawn, I see little critters jumping back and forth near where the green grass becomes a series of stones, and eventually a small forest. I forgot how chipmunks jump, I’m glad the rats don’t do that in the city.
I should imagine that when Matt was a kid, like me, he’d go on adventures through the woods, imagining that he would find some unknown path. I wouldn’t mind getting lost in the woods, there was always so much excitement about getting lost back then, but now, to be lost is to be without direction, it seems to be not as fun. Why is that? Sometimes it’s not necessary to know what the next move is, you can’t predict how things will go.
The smell of barbeque permeates throughout the neighborhood. That’s one thing I miss in the city, the smell of that barbeque going.
Quote:
“All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost.” – J.R.R. Tolkien

As I was sitting with Matt today I had told him that I wished he had a blog. He proceeded to tell me that he feels like when you write something that can be read by anyone, it puts a censor on what can be written. Which got me thinking about the different purposes of blogging. What is the point of writing about your feelings if you cannot allow your whole thoughts to gush out with each sentence?  Sometimes I am tempted to write exactly how I feel, to just say it, with reckless abandon, but then again that’s what my personal journal is for. However, maybe if I did specifically say when “Susan” did this to me in April, it made me feel “…” It would allow for a more personal connection between the writer and the reader. Or, it would be more beneficial to me to actually write out things specifically instead of trying to sugarcoat or say things in an ambiguous manner. 
Tonight, I am going to write about my feelings in two ways one will be the ambiguous and the other will be straightforward:
 
Incidences that are Metaphors for life this weekend:
-       I was getting into the sailboat, when my partner got in before I was where I needed to be. The boat tipped over and we both were swimming in the gross dock water. With a small ladder and a strong arm I was able to get out.
-       Sometimes, in the most peculiar places, I will find a penny heads up.
-       I broke a mirror.
-       I watched Gone with the Wind but only the parts that Rhett Butler and Scarlett are interacting. My heart still breaks when he ends up leaving on a misunderstanding.
-       Scarlett definitely will get him back.
-       There is a lot of serious junk in the trunk of my car.
-       I need to clear out my storage facility in Jamaica Plain.
-       I deleted people on FB who don’t say hi to me in real life.
 
I am scared. I am scared that I am not going to finish the goals I have for myself this summer. I am scared that even though I know that they are attainable, the only way of getting them done is to actually do it. I am scared that if I don’t go back to Cleveland this summer I may not get to see my great aunt Angela (age 99) before she dies.  She’s one of the people in this world that don’t know how much I love her and I need to do a better job of expressing my appreciation for her. I miss my mom and my dad, even though I act like I don’t. When you live on your own, there isn’t always that friendly face or that pat on the back that you get when you’ve just fallen off the boat. The other day when I fell out of the sailboat into the water, I felt really grownup, it may sound like a silly thing to say, but when you publically make mistakes there used to be a time where someone was right there telling you don’t worry, get up, try again. However, that’s the way life is. Your parents do all they can do and you either learn from it or you don’t, or you just keep going until you learn on your own.
I am scared that by saying what I am afraid of it makes me seem insignificant. Like I am just another kid talking about all of these little kid ideas that should have died off when I was 19, I’m 20 now goddamnit, grow-up, be a (wo)man. At the sametime, today when I was telling Matt about my fears of never finding someone… he reminded me that we are only 20, that we really are just kids. It’s true, like Anais Nin says, “”We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations.” I feel like this quote is something that anyone can relate to. It reminds me that I am not alone in the growing process. That just because I am a certain age, it doesn’t mean I need to be doing a certain thing because that’s what I have been raised to believe; that growing-up is all about becoming more of who you are. That in some ways you can still be a kid and still be an adult at the same time. How am I still a kid?:  My optimistic perspective on people/life; I believe that by picking up heads up pennys I have better luck; I am worried that breaking the mirror while moving will bring me seven years of bad luck; I believe that I will fall in love and live happily ever after; I believe that I will find the job of my dreams. I’m so corny, I think that it something I can add to the list. Or that’s not something you grow out of huh? I don’t think people like corny people.
I am afraid that I ask too many questions about everything, to everyone. I am afraid that I am too random, that it makes me seem insincere. I am afraid that I won’t pay off the high debts that I have. And that even though I’ll save money living in the suburbs of RI, that the slow pace of things will make me wish otherwise. I am afraid of being judged for who I am, both physically and internally… but even though that scares me, I will not compromise who I am for anyone. That’s something that I really admire about my friend Matt, he never compromises himself for anyone.
The thing is though, even though that I am afraid of all of these things. I am not afraid to take a chance. I am not afraid to make myself seem ridiculous or silly, because that’s just as much a part of me as my brown eyes or my curly hair.
I think I got off track somewhere around here, but hey, it’s a blog… it doesn’t have to make sense.
 
To the movies.
 
Quote:
“Haven’t you figured out yet that you are the only one who can do what you do, the way you do it? Don’t you realize that the world is waiting for you?”  -Iyanla Vanzant