more than just a pair of shoes

I really like this.

My favorite part is:

"it's time to get greedy for the stuff that really matters"

And the shoes are pretty rad too.

Too bad they are way out of my budget.

At least for now.

Maybe I'll splurge...

next summer.

like mother, like daughter

Yesterday I baked. I know, this is a rare occurrence, no? But I have been wanting to hone my domestic talents, or possibly, create some. Anyway, these lemon-blueberry scones (thank you, allrecipes.com) were scrumptious and super easy to make.

If I can do it, anyone can. :-)

{In true "Flavors of the Umpqua"-style, I should mention that the blueberries were picked locally by my mom, dad, and little brother, and we get our eggs from a lady at church who has chickens.}

photo via mi madre,

way more artistic than I could have done.

da da dadadaDAda dadadaDAda nanananaaa

This video is hilarious.

Check it out.

"you'll never look at dinner the same way"

I saw this on Monday at this funky funeral home-turned movie cinema called The Bijou in Eugene, (my mom already posted about it here). I haven't read as much about this subject as my mother has, so a lot of it was new information (though I would like to). I thought the movie was very well-done and interesting.

Although a lot of it focuses on the negative aspects of the way we eat and produce food, raising awareness, (which I feel is necessary and beneficial) it ended on a very positive note with this bright idea about the power of the consumer:

you can vote, three times a day.
you can change the world...with every bite.

my neighborhood

I was thinking the other day about communities. And neighborhoods. And neighbors.

And blogging. And some of my blogging friends.

A community, a circle, a group, a neighborhood, whatever you like to call it, is a support system. It's a place where you are free. Free, just to be. And be you, however you turn out that day. And there is someone there to laugh or cry with you, or say something that makes you feel better.

When Micaela writes a heart-wrenching post, I feel for her. And know that she and I are similar, in some ways. That we feel things deeply. And that we love easily.

When Jayne posts something hilariously witty, or utterly literary, I bask in the glory of her words. And I laugh out loud. She's brave enough to follow her dreams, and think that is beautiful.

When Pepper puts up pictures of her crafty genius, I envy her talent and smile a little more that day. She has such spice for life, and I love that.

The difference between these women and some of my other blogging friends is this: I only know them through their blogs. And their comments on my blog.

I've never watched movies all night with Micaela, gone used bookstore hunting with Jayne, or had a craft day with Pepper. But these are women that I have grown to respect, love, and sincerely care about.

Because, you see, these are some of my neighbors, in this neighborhood of bloggers. As a whole, it is a worldwide network; but for me, it's not too big. For now. Just a few comments at the finish of my thoughts.

But that's okay, because I've always been a small-town girl.

{And to all my blogging friends, the ones I have and have not met, thanks for stopping by my little corner of the world. Come again soon!}

photo via deviantart

Some things are best left between a girl and her {heart.}*

{edit:} this post is not referring to one, specific boy from my past. maybe it's actually about the next boy to break my heart. if that's the way it will go. and maybe, also, the little pieces of my heart that have been put back together, but still, in a way, belong to the past. the little wrongs I have forgiven, but haven't quite forgotten. Regardless, these are my thoughts.

Love-to-be:

Please forgive me for complaining about a boy. Once again. A boy that is not you. But some other boy that will still be tugging on my heart.

Don't think I will never get over it; I will.

Don't think I will never love you fully; I will.

But, unless you are the next boy I meet,

I will have some getting-over to take care of.

But please, please don't give up on me.

I know I'm a mess. But at least I know it, right?

I know I make mistakes. Stupid ones. And I say the wrong thing. A lot. I'm not perfect. I'm not almost perfect.

Please trust me when I say that I will love you deeper than you can imagine. And I will let you love me, even when I don't think I deserve it. And I will become very attached. (Even though, as I'm sure you have figured out by now, I am pretty independent.) And I will add flavor to your days, and color to your moonlights.

Know that I trust my instincts and I follow my heart.

And my heart is headed in your direction:

But, you see, it's kind of big. And heavy. But I'm letting some things go, along the way. Some old things that I don't need anymore.

And it feels really good, because I'm making room for you.

image via deviantart

*Carbon Leaf, I changed the last word. Forgive me :)

a lovely manifesto

I found this from A Lot To Say, one of my new favorite "green" T-shirt companies. (dare I say, maybe exactly the kind of company I would love to work for?)



Our Manifesto



If you think something, say it.
If you believe something, say it.
If you want something, say it.
Because saying it creates new awareness.
Awareness sparks new behavior.
And new behavior inspires us all to be better.
If we speak out, others will act out.
To vote. Recycle. Save.
To think a little more.
To try a little harder.
To live more honestly.
Thoughtfully. Joyfully.
You have a lot to say.
So never be afraid to say it.
Or wear it.
Everyday.



{now, obviously, saying everything you think, could be a not-so-good idea. But I think this is beautiful and very positive.}

summer update

So...remember this list?

Summer is more than halfway over....so here are the updates:
1--hmmm..not yet..
2--okay, give me credit. I've tried to job shadow a friend a couple times, but it just hasn't worked out yet. But we're still trying!
3--I've learned a little bit more. To quote my mother, I don't just need to learn how to cook, I need to "learn how to eat." Okay, I'm sort of a really picky eater. Gimme a break, I'm trying...and I got it from her! lol
4--Oh have I ever! It might be a more-than-weekly occurrence that we share a slice of cheesecake as a staff, because it was "too old" or mutilated in some way.
5--YES! I've been at least 4 times. And definitely plan on going a couple more before I leave.
6--YES! I went to many of Kevin's baseball games. I only missed a few because of work.
7--...so far, so good. I think.
8--not yet....but Kellie and I are working it out:-).
9--YES! Although this list is never "done," I have read: Speak, The Poisonwood Bible, Persepolis, some poems from The Forgiveness Parade, and I'm currently Zorro.
10--YES! I've been keeping a scripture journal pretty regularly, to write my thoughts as I'm studying. And I've been writing in my regular journal pretty often, too.
11--YES! :)

I still want to read more....and work on the first 4 goals....and enjoy summer. But I still have a little over a month :-)

{Did you hear that, college friends? I'll be back... in almost a month:) hehe}

hum-dum-dee-dum

My friends are getting married.

My friends are getting married, and I'm still single.

My friends are getting married, and I'm still single. And I'm okay with that.

My friends are getting married, and I'm still single. And I'm okay with that. Really, I am.

My friends are getting married, and I'm still single. And I'm okay with that. Really, I am. Most of the time.

But sometimes, it can be hard.

But sometimes, it can be hard to see everyone else happy.

But sometimes, it can be hard to see everyone else happy with everyone else.

But sometimes, it can be hard to see everyone else happy with everyone else. And here I am.

But sometimes, it can be hard to see everyone else happy with everyone else. And here I am. Happy, but alone.

And I wonder why.

And I wonder why I am so independent.

And I wonder why I am so independent, and comfortable with myself.
And I wonder why I am so independent, and comfortable with myself. my-lonely-self.
And I wonder why I am so independent, and comfortable with myself. my-lonely-self. Instead of someone else.

Because I'm not.

Because I'm not that girl.

Because I'm not that girl you know.
Because I'm not that girl. you know, the one who's always a girlfriend.

Because I'm not that girl. you know, the one who's always a girlfriend. And never just, a girl.

I am just me.
I am just me, and I'm learning.
I am just me, and I'm learning. I'm learning about love.
I am just me, and I'm learning. I'm learning about love. And loving myself first.

I am just me, and I'm learning. I'm learning about love. And loving myself first. Because, for now, that is enough.

photo via deviantart

Pencil marks, chocolate smudges, and battered dustjackets

Yesterday I was in a bookstore. One of my favorite bookstores.
I stood in one aisle of the Blue Room, holding two books in my hands. Two copies of the same book.

*the first: new, paperback, smelling of freshly printed paper, smaller/more portable, and also 3 dollars more.

*the second: used, hardcover with a slightly battered dustjacket, thick, musty pages, and the binding a little curved.

I stood there for at least ten minutes, trying to decide which to buy. It was not a matter of whether or not I would buy the book; that had already been decided when I looked up the author's last name, eagerly scanned the shelves, and stood on tiptoes to reach the two books. It was a choice of new vs. used, or new vs. new-to-you.

I have always felt that used books have more character. That if they are well-worn, it means they have been well-loved. That if the binding is curved or the cover is a little tattered, it's because it has been opened again and again to reread a favorite passage, or that the former owner took it everywhere with them because they just couldn't put it down.

One of my mother's cookbooks, when opened, immediately falls to her favorite brownie recipe. The page is scattered with annotations, adaptations, and a few smudges of chocolate. I love that. That's not just how cooking should be; it's how life should be.

We try to do our best, and take the best care of ourselves. And that is a very good thing. But sometimes we screw up, and our pages get a few smudges, and the dustjacket gets a few tears (or we lose it altogether), or we add pistachios to the mix, and later decide that made one terrible batch of brownies. And sometimes, much as we try, we don't learn from our mistakes the first time. Sometimes we must revisit that painful passage again (and again), to catch the whole lesson.

But at some point, when the screwing up has paused for a moment: we put ourselves back together, smooth out our edges as much as we can, and stand tall, knowing that someone will love us better for our scars, for our failed attempts at perfect life, and for the story no one else can tell.

{After several minutes of mental deliberation, I chose the sullied script over the virgin text.}

Somehow I know I will love this book. And I think I will love it even more because it has been loved by someone before me.

photo via deviantart

music is poetry that gets stuck in your head

{I know, I know, I talk about music a lot. If that bores you, well, there is a little "x" in the top-right corner that can solve your problem ;)}

Life for the past few days:

~The Script has constantly been playing in my stereo

~Many-a-Regina Spektor video has been watched on youtube, including repeats of "real love (cover of John Lennon song)," "dance anthem of the 80's" and "samson."

~I really want to teach myself guitar.

~we listened to many-a-favorite Dave Matthews Band song closing the restaurant a few nights ago.

~I think that singing in the car is a wonderful alternative to commercials, or lousy sets on the radio. it is also an excellent atmosphere for lyrical and harmonical experimentation, because no one can laugh at the generally unorganized, sometimes flat, and often repetitive me. :)

[I realized today that I actually forgot some of the words to Sara Bareilles' song, "Between the Lines." I was surprised and sad for a minute, because it is such a beautiful song. And that song got my 19-year-old self through some rough days, it so perfectly articulated how I felt. But now it is kind of wonderful to know that chapter in my life is closed, and has been for a while. {This is not a recent development, but a recent realization of a continual truth.}]

It is so freeing to have to choose to remember. To move on, without those lyrics in the back of my mind.

and on a totally random, but completely necessary note:

Happy Independence Day, tomorrow!

I will be enjoying:

-an excellent firework show at a local high school's football field

-the night off, with my family

-something wonderful for dinner, because my mom will be making it:)

-and a star-spangled cake made by my darling 10-year old brother out of strawberry and vanilla cake, and blueberries.

photo via vi.sualize.us

you are my sweetest downfall

This song has been running through my head all day, and yesterday.
I have always found the story of Samson and Delilah terribly, hopelessly, depressingly, romantic.
And I always wish we knew more about it.

photo via vi.sualize.us

Foolish Games

Shame on me for not pulling out my Jewel CD earlier this year. When I really needed it.

Shame on me for being so bad at keeping promises...to myself.

Shame on me for not treating myself and my body with the respect and care it deserves.

Shame on me for leaving without saying goodbye.

Shame on me for forgetting important things. And forgetting the importance of some things.

photo via this

so I used to be adorable.

{This might put a smile on your face.}

because it makes me happy.

I found this today in one of my boss's books about Christianity. He left it at work, and it was SUPER slow, so I was flipping through it.

I really liked it.

"If there's anything in life that we should be passionate about, it's the gospel. And I don't mean passionate only about sharing it with others. I mean passionate about thinking about it, dwelling on it, rejoicing in it, allowing it to color the way we look at the world. Only one thing can be of most importance to each of us. And only the gospel ought to be.

-C.J. Mahaney

Sometimes I have to remind myself that the times when I have the most energy, when I feel the happiest, and the most balanced, and the most passionate about life, are the times when I am putting God first.

i ...feel so popular..teehee.

{random photo from high school. just for kicks. And the shirt says, "I'm not 60, I'm $59.95 +tax!)

So Jayne from The Little Passenger tagged me to do this little survey. She has a lovely blog, and I felt special for a moment that she thought of me. Thanks, girl!

What is your current obsession?

Hmm...as lame as it sounds...I would have to say blogging...I do it every night after work. to unwind. I might be guilty of blog surfing for hours and/or blog stalking...

Coffee or tea?

Mmm..gotta go with Jayne on this one. Hot cocoa. I fancy myself quite the cocoa connoisseur. I like really dark hot cocoa, made from scratch with cocoa powder and sugar. with a shot of almond roca.

What's for dinner?

I...work at a restaurant...from 5 to 10ish almost every night. My dinner usually consists of quick gulps of lemonade behind the counter, and stale garlic bread that the cooks made too much of. Once in a while we get lucky, and they screw up on something yummy like artichoke dip.

What was the last thing you bought?

A six-inch House Special Sub sandwich from my cute little restaurant. It was gooooood.

EDIT: I also just recently bought myself a pair of red TOMS. And they shipped yesterday. : )

What are you listening to right now?

It's 12:30 and almost everyone else is asleep, so nothing. But I was listening to Ella Fitzgerald earlier when I was getting ready for work. Singing Gershwin. It doesn't get much better than that.

What is your favorite ice cream flavor?

Chocolate Peanut Butter. From Umpqua Dairy.

What is your favorite color?

Yellow. Because it's happy. And because I am one.

What is your favorite piece of clothing in your wardrobe?

It's hard to pick....maybe the new black dress I got that makes me look tan....maybe my Pink Martini T-shirt, (with bleach stains, might i add. honestly don't know how those got there.)...or maybe my Lucky jeans...because they were free. Nope. I think it's my No Sweat converse hi-top knock-offs. Because they were ethically-made. Which makes my heart happy.

What is your dream job?

Working for a non-profit organization in south america.

or being an actress.

or a fashion designer.

or a really good mother, like mine.


How many times do you press the snooze button before you get up?

Half the time I don't use an alarm because I work nights, and sometimes prefer to sleep in and stay in my pajamas until I have to change into my uniform. But I usually just snooze once or twice, depending on if there is someone in the shower when I first wake up. (I find it very hard to function in the morning if I have not: brushed my teeth, gone to the bathroom, and washed my face.)


Taggage!

From the Mind of Katie

"I don't know if life is greater than death, but love was more than either."

From the Outside Looking In

Spinning Into Control

The Catcher in the Rye

The Paths My Eyes Wander Down



{In case you failed to notice (<--interjected thought: i instantly thought of the Jewel song, Foolish Games, Anyone else get that?), I am really bad at making decisions. I was only supposed to tag five people. Oh well. :). Just spreading the love a little more.}

you are what what you eat eats.

~Some Random Thoughts from my Wednesday~

I really want to see this film. And this one, too.

I just spent 30 minutes learning about chocolate. here and here. thank you, wikipedia.

I think Bob Dylan is genius.

I want to be more creative with the three Rs.

I wish I could afford to only shop at farmers markets, independent businesses, and fair trade establishments.

I might go veg again.

Some of my favorite foreign films are in french, not spanish, (the language I've studied).

I tasted world-class cheese today. seriously. they have awards to prove it. Here.

And I tasted chocolate-covered BACON. Here.

I really wouldn't mind living in Oregon the rest of my life.

I love hanging out with my mom.

I miss the MOA cafe.

I am not very good at taking naps. especially in cars.

I was told on Monday that I'm flat-footed. By a doctor. Don't know how I feel about that.

I need a bigger memory card for my camera.

I have had the sudden urge to abandon my laptop for a typewriter.

I really need to eat more vegetables.

I can't wait to pick some Bing Cherries. Pit them. Dry them. And take them back to school.

I'm thinking up a good excuse to drive out to Lighthouse Center in Umpqua.

I really like grocery shopping. Especially at cute little *overpriced* stores.

Should I take HEPE 105 over the summer??

Should I compete open in the fall????

Should I buy a bike next year??

Now that I solved the scheduling problem....i'm stressing about ballroom auditions...:-O

really stressing.

and wishing there was more I could do...

That's all, for now.

photo via deviantart

Fathers.

The restaurant where I work is located in a sort of sketchy part of town. Right next to a couple homeless shelters and a few bars.

Needless to say, it's not unusual for me to see a transient passed out on the sidewalk or a group of them outside the shelter smoking as I'm walking from my car.

Yesterday, I was thinking about fathers. And how it's very likely that many or most of these men are fathers, in some sense of the word. And even more, they have/had fathers.

Are their children somewhere, wondering where they are? Thinking about them, more than usual, on this day to honor fathers?

For some reason, it's hard for me to picture these men in any other role than the one they currently fill. I have to remind myself that once upon a time, they were babies. They were children. And teenagers. Some of them were probably devastatingly handsome or witty or talented, at one point in their lives.

But at some point, something went wrong. Whether by their own choices or by mental/physical/economic circumstances beyond their control. (I tend to be rather skeptical, and assume that poverty in this country is almost wholly the result of choices, not lack of opportunity. Although I believe that is true much of the time, I have to remind myself that it is not the only cause).

Few people expect their children to grow up and be homeless. It's just not how most people think.

But it happens.

It's hard to respect someone when you assume that their quality of life is due to drug addiction, or alcoholism.

Though we cannot help them out of the rut they may have gotten themselves into, and we should not condone such behavior, we can show compassion. Even if just in our minds. We can acknowledge them as human beings. And as citizens of this country, with the same rights we have.

I recently read the book, The Soloist, (I'm dying to see the movie). It's a true story. The story of a homeless man in Los Angeles, a former Juilliard string bassist, who struggles with schizophrenia. It's an incredible story. It doesn't have the typical Hollywood happy ending, but it is still a triumph. It's just, real.

It makes me wonder how many similar stories are waiting to be discovered, and recognized.

Anyway, this has grown into a pretty long jumble of thoughts, but really all I wanted to say was:

Happy Father's Day.

To my own dear old dad, and to all fathers. Wherever they are.

photo via deviantart

i'm reed fish

I just watched this movie.

It was...kinda weird, and kinda confusing.

But I liked it.

Surprisingly surprising.

And I just might buy the soundtrack.

PS: I never posted about another really good movie I watched: Les Choristes (The Chorus). Really good French film about a boys' school and an unconventional teacher. Sort of like a French Dead Poet's Society. Which I watched the other day too. Love that movie. So much.

Eureka! I have found the answer!

..or at least a possible solution...

The good news:
The class that conflicts with the two beginning ballroom teams is offered at another time!

The bad news:
It's once a week, for two and a half hours.


Here's my plan:
Stay registered in the section I'm in right now, but contact the professor for one of the evening sections. (hoping they won't fill up the first week of school.)
Practice my waltz and cha cha.
Maybe take a private lesson or two. (any other recommendations, Katie or Kellie?)
Audition for team.
Pray.
Then, IF I make it, hopefully add the night section.

More than you all needed to know.
But this is a serious blessing and relief.