You don't believe in signs...

Do you believe in signs? More aptly, do you believe in fate? I have always balked against the idea of being fated, about having your future written for you. Last year I read Never Let Me Go and felt the need to put it in a shredder. Forget murder, forget thievery...it's the idea of being scripted that frightens me like none other. Being predestined. Not having any say in the course of your life. A world in which fighting for what you want is futile, because it has already been decided.
That said, I am still extremely superstitious and look to the universe for signs, most often in my love life. I don't want to think about these as rules, as evidence of what has already been written for me. I prefer to think of them as sign posts-- you know "turn right to get to stress and despair," "cross bridge to find fulfillment." Sign posts telling me what I should do, and if I take the wrong path, my life will be forever altered (and not in the good way).
Lately I've been confronted with instances that seem too blatantly like potentially life-altering signs to ignore. You may recall the instance of the refrigerator that I ranted about last week. In short, my refrigerator died (and smelled up my entire apartment) and my rental agency delayed and delayed about getting the old monstrosity out and getting me a new odor-free kitchen appliance. So finally they call me and tell me that my new refrigerator is in my apartment, only...when I return home refrigerator is nowhere to be found. I soon discover that my rental agency has confused my apartment, 1A, with the one below mine, A, and they have unplugged my poor downstairs neighbor's refrigerator, taken all of his food out, carted the old one away, and given him my new refrigerator. Later that night he has to deal with warm smelly milk and a crew of maintenance people unplugging the new refrigerator, re-plugging his old refrigerator, and carting the new fridge out of his apartment and up the stairs to mine.
The next day I am cooking (food which had previously been refrigerated in my new refrigerator) and heaving dishes into the dishwasher, with lots and lots of dishsoap since what seemed like months worth of dishes had piled up ignored in my kitchen. I bring my food into the living room and am watching TV when I hear my doorbell ring...I peer through the peephole. "Hello?" I call. "Yeah, it's the Super, you have a leak?" "Ummm, no, I don't think so," I say. "Well your downstairs neighbor says water is leaking through his ceiling...can I come in and check?" So I let him in, look to my left, and proceed to freak out, because there are three feet of suds in my kitchen, rising by the moment. This was a movie-worthy amount of suds. So not only did I cause my downstairs neighbor some spoiled food and a replaced (but then not) refrigerator, I also flooded his apartment.
I should explain that I didn't know my downstairs neighbor. We've passed each other in the hall a few times, always smiled at each other. I've always thought he was attractive. I've always felt terrible because my delivery food is frequently delivered to him instead of me, so he has to be the one to direct deliverymen up the stairs and answer the door for no reason. But we never knew each other's names. That is, until tonight.
Tonight I managed to lock myself out of my apartment. I knocked on four doors on my floor, and nobody answered. And then I went downstairs, knocked on his door...and he answered. He lent me his phone so I could call my rental agency and then a locksmith, and he let me sit in his apartment with him for an hour until the locksmith arrived. We laughed about the delivery, refrigerator, and flooding disasters and wondered how we'd never actually met before. He showed himself to be not just physically attractive but also to be sensitive, artistic, kind, and intelligent, and I found myself being able to talk naturally to a new guy for the first time in a very long time. And also to feel...a spark?...that I also haven't felt for someone new in a while.
So what does all of it mean? This man lives with his girlfriend, so clearly it's not that we're supposed to be together. But at the same time, all signs seemed to be pointing toward us needing to meet...what is it all about? On a related note, I just watched Eli Stone. Watch it. It's brilliant, and you'll see how it relates.

Request for reader help (with my new "relationship")

Two days ago I began my re-entry into the world of relationships. Now, don't get me wrong, I have zero interest in dating. My boss gave me crap about this today (and the fact that I don't believe in Valentines Day), but the truth is that for once in my life I'm putting myself first. It's a time in my life when I am starting over in my career, education, and locale, so I have my hands full with me and ensuring that my next few months in New York remain as pleasant (and exploration-filled) as possible. But I do know that my relationships in the past, specifically the recent past, haven't exactly been the healthiest. Was it Oscar Wilde who said "each man kills the thing he loves"? This was always a great fear of mine, since I feel like I'm always destroying valuable relationships, whether consciously or unconsciously. I am always aware of the fact that my behavior has the potential to ruin the things I hold most dear. Forgive the quote again...but "I say there's trouble when everything is fine; the need to destroy things creeps up on me every time" (that's Rilo Kiley. Not the most literary, I know, but still great).
So, I'm not interested in dating right now...so how have I re-entered the realm of relationships? Well, with Cynthia. Cynthia is my new hyacinth plant. There is logic here-- see, I am a plant killer. Proven. I have killed plants I didn't even know could be killed. So if I'm terrified of killing the things I love...well why not start by loving the things I've killed? If I can start by making this plant thrive against all odds...well then, I think that's a step in the right direction. Plus, she's pretty.That said, she is very obviously starting to lean (you can see it in the photo above). The flowers are so heavy that they just keep falling to the side. I'm afraid that it's already going to die! I've been watering it, but I don't want to over-water...and I've been rotating the plant so that different sides are exposed to the light. Does anyone have any advice? Am I supposed to prop it up? How much water is enough, and how much is too much? PLEASE help me not to be a disaster! That said, COMMENTS PLEASE!

A friend in need...

Today as I was walking toward M. Rohr's for some leisurely coffee and reading (current book: The Professor and the Madman: A Tale of Murder, Insanity, and the Making of the Oxford English Dictionary) I ran into my college friend Megan, who I haven't seen in a while. Megan is one of the sweetest people ever, and when I graduated from college she wrote me a letter (on a sheet of notebook paper, in her tiny handwriting) telling me how much my friendship had meant to her. I never expect people to thank me for being friendly or welcoming; that's just who I am. But that appreciation, presented in a form that I could read when I was feeling my worst, is something for which I am immensely grateful. So we sat in M. Rohr's, with its century-old coffee sacks and mismatched cushy chairs, and caught up over lattes.Megan and I have a lot in common in terms of how we live our lives. We both devour books and would rather be reading. We are both pursuing "do-gooder" professions-- social work for Megan, teaching (hopefully) for me. We're both 80-year-old women trapped in 20-something bodies. And we have similar ideals about friendship and relationships. So of course our conversation lasted hours and covered a crazy wide range of topics.
The most interesting topic that we covered was friendship, specifically individual characteristics that we cherish in our friends. I never realized how different my friends are. How did this topic come about? Well, Megan is in the process of planning her sister's wedding and was discussing the process of selecting bridesmaids. So naturally, we started talking about who we would want as bridesmaids in our weddings (waaaaaaay off in the future), and the conversation evolved from there.
I was never one to have a single group of friends-- I was more about having 8 different groups of friends, since I am a mad mass of contradictions and need people who flatter all the different sides of me. I have those who share my quirky side-- for instance, my friend Sara came up with the idea to do a cake tour of New York when I first moved here. We each bought a slice and then rotated. It was glorious-- although the red velvet cake was disappointingly dry.But there are also the friends who will allow me to go on and on about the Jack the Ripper documentary I saw tonight...and those who come to the rescue with gatorade and saltines after a rough night...or those who stand and cheer while I metaphorically flush a heinous ex-boyfriend down the toilet...or those with whom words aren't necessary...or those who help me clean foul-smelling vileness out of my dead refrigerator...or those who can make a crazy night out a blast, even though I hate the bar scene...or those who know that the best thing they can say when I'm upset is "I'm here for you, unconditionally." And I strive to do all of the above in return.

A New Mix

I heard about Heath Ledger's death and I couldn't help but be reminded of River Phoenix. A great, young, nonconformist actor who died at way too young an age. I can't help but be a bit angry though. Of course, we don't know the details, but if drugs were involved I can't be as sympathetic as I want to be. This man always seemed like a down-to-earth, talented, sweet man who avoided celebrity trappings...but if he's hanging out in Mary-Kate Olson's apartment popping pills when he has a two-year-old child who needs a father, then I don't know what to think. I'm holding off on any judgment because nobody deserves that, and he doesn't seem like the type of man who would think himself so invincible, and he doesn't seem like a guy who would need artificial substances to enhance his life. But I of all people also know the extremes to which one will go to escape problems. What did I do to escape? Lean on people (often on too large a scale). Distract myself with movies, friends, not being alone. Buy things I couldn't afford. That was the way I dealt, because I knew that drugs or alcohol would only make things worse...not that drug-use even crossed my mind, because I'm so staunchly against that in my own life. But can I see how others would turn to substances to escape their pain? Sure. I'm not in the position to judge anyone, because I too have my addictions-- namely, people. And we all have our ways of dealing. But my prayers are with Michelle, who I'm sure still has strong feelings for Heath, and baby Matilda, whose life will never be the same.
It's an unlikely way to follow these statements, and perhaps inappropriate, but I was planning on making a new love song mix today, and I'm going to continue with that plan. I call it "Love, But Never Typical." To me a love song is something that explores the processes of falling in and out of love, the highs and lows, not just the candy floss moments you hear on adult contemporary stations. I've been far from ordinary in my own love life. "I love you" has been difficult to say and those words have only been spoken to one person; there have been lots of tears; codependency issues abounded; but I've also experienced lots of laughter, intimacy, and growth in my romantic life over the years. Always a mix, but (at least recency) always with far more good than bad. And never, never typical.

1) My Back Pages by The Byrds
2) Fell in Love at 22 by Starflyer 59
3) Summer, Highland Falls by Billy Joel
4) Come Pick Me Up by Ryan Adams
5) C'mon C'mon by Sheryl Crow
6) Just Like Heaven by The Cure
7) Troubled Times by Fountains of Wayne
8) You and the Mona Lisa by Shawn Colvin
9) Goodbye Song by The Abandoned Pools
10) Always by Rilo Kiley
12) Don't Look Back in Anger by Oasis
13) Let My Love Open the Door by Pete Townshend
14) Chariots Rise by Lizzie West
15) On Your Porch by The Format
16) These Are Days by 10,000 Maniacs
17) Momentary Thing by Something Happens
18) Broken Hearted Me by Anne Murray (which may be the most depressing song ever)
19) In Your Eyes by Peter Gabriel
20) Green Apples by Chantal Kreviazuk

Flick on a switch

I ran into a former coworker on the street the other day-- she was one of the nice ones-- and after all of the obligatory catching up, she mentioned that I seemed to have gotten back to myself. I was the person she knew and loved, finally after six months of so-called disaster. I started thinking after I heard that...is happiness that fine of a line? A couple minor adjustments, and a switch flicks from one end of the spectrum to another, from miserable to happy?Granted, I wouldn't say I'm ecstatic yet or even that I've fully found myself. But I do know that I don't wake up every morning highly conscious of the fact that I lost myself. I remember that I felt the most myself when I was in Europe...I was spontaneous. I traveled alone and hiked the moors. I stood by myself in San Pietro, surrounded by thousands of people speaking a language I could not even grasp. I threw my coins in the Trevi fountain, the quarters that Jenny had given me specifically for that purpose (I had written a poem about it freshman year). I kissed a lot of frogs-- which is not a "me" characteristic at all-- but the point is that I wasn't afraid of living. I made a mysterious connection across a bookstore, one that was ruined as soon as we talked and entered into reality. I climbed cliffs and snuggled on precipices. I lived on a diet of creamy tomato soup, scones, and tea, and I didn't gain any weight because I was so blissfully happy. I felt like I was surrounded by spectres of literary icons, peeking out from behind spires and lamp-posts, like a happier version of Jude the Obscure. Now I still can't shake the feeling that ghosts of memories, experiences from last year, lurk around every corner and pop out like a Jack-in-the-Box just when I think I'm finally myself again. I pass a street corner or restaurant and BOOM! it's like the wind has been knocked out of me. Maybe moving is the solution. But maybe that's running away.
I can't say I'm completely happy in the moment I'm in, where I am, who I am. I have only been able to say that twice in my lifetime. I'm the type of girl who always wants more. I think that's why I always related to Belle from Beauty and the Beast-- she is not satisfied with her lot. And maybe that's why I have such a hankering to travel, to Norway and Ireland, Brazil and Romania, Switzerland and the south of France.
I read this article, "GPS for my Lost Identity" by Laura Dave, yesterday in the New York Times. It was in the Modern Love column, and I think that it perfectly expresses the feeling of losing yourself (in this case, both literally and figuratively) and the pains that it takes to find your way back again. Sometimes you just need to drive and seek something awe-inspiring. It's pretty remarkable. Or even something familiar and comforting. When I was back in St. Louis and started to feel claustrophobic, I would hop in my car and drive west, purposely taking the side streets instead of the highway. I would pass through suburbia and park in front of the polka dotted awning that distinguished Carolyn's, an old-fashioned cafe that nobody at my university knew about because it was outside of our "bubble." Somehow over the course of an afternoon with a good book, a piece of pie, and a polka-dot motif, any troubles or alienation seemed to fade into something that was, if not pleasant, at least manageable. So I guess that's why I take such pleasure in the simple things...because they take me away mentally, even if I can't afford to travel physically....

Mean reds day...

I feel like my perfectionism is going to tear me apart. I just want to twirl in the rain with Paul Varjak...
First bad work day. A ransacked apartment. A lack of refrigerator, and having to throw out really expensive European butter and apple cider sorbet (don't worry, nobody broke into my apartment-- I was just once again reassured that you sometimes can't rely on people ). But worst of all, my personal guilt at just not being a paragon of perfection.
"You know what's wrong with you, Miss whoever-you-are? You're chicken. You've got no guts. You're afraid to stick out your chin and say, 'Okay. Life's a fact. People do fall in love. People do belong to each other.' Because that's the only chance anybody's got for real happiness. You call yourself a free spirit, a wild thing, and you're terrified somebody's gonna stick you in a cage. Well Baby, you're already in that cage -- you built it yourself. And it's not bounded on the west by Tulip, Texas or on the east by Somaliland. It's wherever you go. Because no matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself."

Cold day, warm apartment

My weekends are now Tuesdays and Wednesdays, so I'm not quite sure what to do with myself on two weekdays when everyone else is working...but today I decided not to stray too far from home since it was biting cold. I spent the morning completing the GW application (yippee!), praying that I will get in, and starting the UVA application. After a few hours sitting on my couch and watching daytime television (I can't resist The Ellen Degeneres Show-- sucks me in every time) I finally forced myself outside for a walk along York and some errand running. In a matter of days the Beanocchio's ice cream shop seems to have transformed into the Green Bean Cafe, an organic vegetarian restaurant that carries boba drinks. I love boba! When I was in college my friends and I used to frequent a bubble tea place around the corner. My favorite was the Peach Snow-- basically a peach slushie with tapioca balls. A bit too cold to get one today though.

I picked up some soup for dinner at the Amish market, along with a rosemary roll and a chocolate mint brownie that just looked too good to resist. Why is it that European food is so much prettier than American food? Do they just pay more attention to aesthetics (and, ahem, class)? I saw the most gorgeous box of tiramisu mix, but I forced myself to hold off since there is no way that I am going to eat an entire tiramisu.

My final purchase was a harvest apple scented candle and my belated GRE-and-GW-application present to myself, a tiny book of black and white photos and quotes about kisses. I think that photos of kisses are so beautiful...and the real thing is pretty fantastic as well. In my lifetime, I've been fortunate to have some truly amazing kisses--heart-pounding, knee-weakening, arms-encircling, lip-nibbling, body-cleaving kisses. You know Proust's madeleine, that object which triggers a powerful memory? (Read this Slate article about the madeleine-- fascinating). It's not exactly the same thing, but if I encounter circumstances that evoke a kiss I once had, it triggers a memory so powerful that I can physically sense it. Sometimes I have to steady myself because I can feel myself falling, as if falling back in time... That said, I have had some horrendous kisses as well, and unfortunately the poor kissers outnumber the splendid kissers. Why is that?

Anyway (that was quite the tangent) I just finished eating my splendid, warm, and poetic dinner. What could be better than hearty vegetable soup, rosemary bread dipped in olive oil, and raspberry tea by candlelight?

For dessert, I am currently working on this beautiful chocolate bar, which comes with a love poem inside! By...(unwrapping, unwrapping) Christina Rossetti! Oh my goodness, how perfect!...how she felt when first he kissed her-- like a tub of roses swimming in honey, cologne, nutmeg, and blackberries." ~Samuel Sullivan Cox

What I found on my walk home

On my way home from work, I stopped in at this tiny antique shop after walking by it four or five times. The display window just drew me in absolutely...I just love the way they juxtaposed the old books with display objects. The books were amazing: Flush by Virginia Woolf, which is the "autobiography" of Elizabeth Barrett Browning's cocker spaniel; a book called No Nice Girl Swears; and best of all, a 1961 movie tie-in edition of Breakfast at Tiffany's. I have also discovered an obsession with silhouettes. When I move into a new place, I want to create a wall of silhouettes...different types, sizes, shapes...very elegant but very quirky. Very me.

Now, as for the room for silhouettes...what do you think about this? Unfortunately I can't take credit for this photo...but I hope to recreate it someday (and then some-- not enough silhouettes for me!).

Nerves

Sorry, readers, that I've been such a terrible writer over the past week! I have been getting used to the new job and studying like a madwoman for the GRE...which is now tomorrow. I have crammed words, equations, and strategies into my mind, and now all I can do is hope that I've done enough. I guess I just have to psych myself into being confident! Anyway, here are some beautiful images that I'll try to keep in my mind so that I don't have a panic attack...

from dominomag.com

My grandmother...wasn't she gorgeous?

lights through a rainy window...

Chasing Fin-Backs

When I was in high school, my English teacher gave us an assignment to write a personal essay based on a quote we would select from Moby Dick. I chose "Many are the Fin-Backs, and many are the Dericks, my friend." It's been a long time since I read the book-- and I wasn't really a fan the first time around-- but if I recall correctly, the Fin-Back is the uncapturable whale because of its great speed. Derick is the captain of the Jungfrau, a ship encountered at sea, and, having mistaken the Fin-Back for a Sperm Whale, he lowers his boats and goes in "valiant chase of this unnearable brute."
What is the point of this, you may ask? Well, the passage is fairly ambiguous in terms of whether Derick is a positive or negative character (although most critics interpret Derick as a fool), but I wrote my essay about the nobility of following your dreams, no matter how unreachable all logic tells you they may be. Now, being a bit more jaded and a lot better-read, I tend to agree with the critics about Derick and that the term "valiant chase" is meant sarcastically...but I can't help but wonder about the concept of dreaming the impossible dream. Is it foolish, noble, or...is it the only option for happiness?
I'm not really the type of person who has ever had a dream. Yeah, I'm a Pisces, we live in our own little dream-world, but as far as actual life dreams, I've always sided more on the side of logic. I used to want to be a Broadway performer. After looking at musical theatre programs at colleges, I decided that I was nowhere near good enough and that I didn't have the strength to deal with being a waitress and having no life stability as I climbed toward my goal. I never really developed any other impossible dreams. Sure, sometimes I say I wish I were a fairy, and I always seem to be questing after lost causes ("when they're really lost")...but that is nowhere near chasing the ungettable get.
When I was at Disney World with my family, I saw all of these little adorable girls dressed up as their favorite princesses.
To them, by putting on the dress they became princesses for a day! Whenever they saw Belle or Ariel or Mickey Mouse, they thought that they were seeing the real thing, and they believed that dreams can come true "when you wish upon a star." To them, magic is very real and enchantment is within their reach. When exactly do we stop believing that? Or furthermore, when exactly do we start telling children that they need to stop reaching for the stars and start living on solid ground? When does chasing Fin-Backs stop being noble and start being foolish?
I guess there is no real conclusion to be made here. But despite how jaded and earthly I may be, I still sometimes feel my toes stretching up off the ground. Despite everything, I still believe in so much and have so much hope, even though I tell myself to be logical and not get my hopes up. If I have to say I got a little foolish, so be it-- at least I wasn't afraid. Guess I'm just another one of the Dericks, my friend...

“‘We’re going through the black air with our arms wide,’ she cried, ‘and our feet straight out behind us like a dolphin’s tail, and we’re going to think we’ll never hit the silver down till suddenly it’ll be all warm round us and full of little kissing, caressing waves.” ~F. Scott Fitzgerald, “The Offshore Pirate”

Better than Bavarian sugar cookies, and stranger than fiction

Sometimes, when we lose ourselves in fear and despair, in routine and constancy, in hopelessness and tragedy, we can thank God for Bavarian sugar cookies. And, fortunately, when there aren't any cookies, we can still find reassurance in a familiar hand on our skin, or a kind and loving gesture, or subtle encouragement, or a loving embrace, or an offer of comfort, not to mention hospital gurneys and nose plugs, an uneaten Danish, soft-spoken secrets, and Fender Stratocasters, and maybe the occasional piece of fiction. And we must remember that all these things, the nuances, the anomalies, the subtleties, which we assume only accessorize our days, are effective for a much larger and nobler cause. They are here to save our lives. I know the idea seems strange, but I also know that it just so happens to be true.

~Stranger Than FictionPiles and piles of fresh pastries, with no calorie counting...what could be more gorgeous?Or feeding a newborn lamb...so sweet...A runaway balloon, lost and found (look closely! can you see it?)Soft hands, hands that tell a story, captured at the right angle at the right time...And yes, the occasional piece of fiction...(look closely. These boats have Shakespearean names!)

Here's to these anomalies! Maybe they'll save your life.

What I found on my way home from work

I'm enjoying this new thing: actually being treated with respect. And also trying to ingrain the idea that respect is something that should be expected and not something for which I should be grateful. I feel like I'm taking concerted steps to put my life back together. Also making a conscious effort to notice the places and things I see that I think are beautiful. I used to do it all of the time, stopping to look at the little girl in her enormous parka outside my apartment every morning, her cable-knit tights barely visible beneath a coat entirely too big for her. Her mom would somehow always choose my apartment stoop as the site to tug up her little girl's zipper and pull her mittens over her cuffs. It would make me smile everyday that I saw it. Hot chocolate with plump marshmallows. Spatters of French in the air. Dogs with curly ears. And a few more things I glimpsed today:

* Roslyn at 73rd and Columbus. Whoever is arranging the window displays should get a raise at this upscale shop specializing in vintage jewelry and fabulous hats. Among items in the window are cushion-cut diamond rings from the 1930s, tree of life pendants, opal necklaces, and drop earrings resembling a cross between clusters of grapes and upside-down tulips. I could have lingered in there for hours...but it would have been too depressing to look at so many beautiful things so far out of my price range!

* Next door we have Arte Around the Corner, the sister restaurant to Arte Cafe. Pear-ginger bread. Nutella fingers. Berry sprinkled oatmeal, fine wines, European style bushels of cookies and shelves of jams. I saw people perched on tall stools, drinking a glass of wine and typing away on laptops. A new GRE study place? Perhaps, if I can convince myself to cross the park.

* On Madison, we have the MarieBelle Cacao Bar and Tea Salon. It's a tiny, second-floor cafe with twinkling lights and lush furniture, an ode to tearooms in Paris, Budapest, and Vienna. I noticed it because as soon as I looked up, I noticed that their chandelier was the very same one that I had admired in Catherine's apartment! I could see the sparkle from the street. It looked like the type of place where I would spend the entire day with a cup of cocoa or another revitalizing beverage....

Have you noticed that none of the places I noticed are bars? Maybe it's the cold weather, maybe it's getting older, maybe it's still being in recovery mode, but I cannot think of anyplace I would less want to be than a crowded bar filled with girls in skimpy tops and men who think way too much of themselves. I would rather spend time with the people I already know and like, maybe in front of the fire, with fondue and good wine, great stories and an old movie, blankets and argyle socks... I prefere culture and comfort over crowds.

I'm slightly obsessed

This makes me giggle like none other. NO' FAHNEEEEEE!

5 Things I Love Right Now

First day of new job went really well! I'm quite pleased. Thanks for the sweet wishes, all! In no particular order...

* Audrey Tatou. There's just this impishness about her, both a nod to old Hollywood and modern quirkiness. A girl at my new workplace looks like Audrey Tatou but with flowing "Amy Adams in Enchanted" tresses, and I couldn't take my eyes off of her today! It made me want to die my hair dark brown and become French. When I see pictures of Audrey, I always think of that scene in Amelie where she talks about the pleasure she finds in the sound of cracking creme brulee with a spoon...

* "Cause I love the way you say good morning, and you take me the way I am." (it's all about the simplicity. Thanks, Ingrid.)

* Blueprint magazine. I bought the final issue yesterday, and while I'm furious with the Powers that Be for closing it down, I'm grateful for the many issues I've saved over the past few months! Check out the beautiful photo at the bottom.

* Mismatched china. When I move into a new apartment and deck it out with antiques, trompe l'oeil designs, and significant amounts of bookcases, I will install hooks over my sink to hold the fancy china (no two cups alike) that I will use on a daily basis. And at tea parties! I will also use them as candle holders and jewelry holders.

* Red Envelope's Joyful Heart Necklace. Not only is the double-wrapped chain, the inscription ("joyful"), and the style totally up my alley, but 25% of each sale goes to the Joyful Heart Foundation, which helps heal survivors of sexual assault. The locket is supposed to be a reminder of internal power; six tiny gemstones, each a symbol of empowerment and intention, can hang on one side of the locket. The wearer can select 1-2 stones that best symbolize an intention for the day, week or year. I'd choose garnet to represent love, compassion, purity, and truth, and iolite, which leads to inner knowledge and higher awareness. I want it!

But I guess fear has a way of making sleep unbearable

And the days seem cold and long

But we cry and we dance and we stumble into love with awkward, perfect grace

The moon is gone and the sun has took it's place

Clean, fresh

I'm trying to start the new year with a clean slate. Truthfully, I want to embrace simplicity right now-- I should wear more white and go back to wearing pearls. I should stop watching television. Most of all, I should stop being bitter about The Former Employer from Hell, especially since I came home today to yet another nasty letter from them, this time accusing me of "willful misrepresentation." Ugly people exist, that much has been proven to me-- but I am better than that. SO much better than that. I should be grateful that I was raised with respect in my marrow. Integrity is my essence, which I guess is why I have such a hard time backing off when I see wrongdoing. But I do not want evil people to leave their stigma on me, because that dulls a sparkle that I am very proud of. Here's something: I got out of there, in one piece, with my principles still intact, and now I have a job that is eerily perfect for me. I was told yesterday that I deserve to be appreciated...well it's time that I realized that! Isn't that realization more important than making The Former Employer from Hell recognize their wrongdoing? They will never admit it. They will never acknowledge my strength. BUT, I can acknowledge it! I've got to move on.

I may have to wish on a penny or two... (mine is the shiny one on the bottom)

Always show my true colors...Channel a child's innocence and bliss... (how beautiful is this little girl!?!)And always remember that I am anything but ordinary. (a red giraffe? guess that's me)

"There are oceans to cross, there are mountains to conquer

And I stood on the shore, and I stood on the cliff

And the second before I jumped I knew where I needed to be..."