"Two hands clasped"

{this is my second favorite Picasso}

 

i'm just glad i get to

hold your hand

and call you

mine

 

To Be Inspired By...

Two Cats

by Katha Pollitt

It's better to be a cat than to be a human.

Not because of their much-noted grace and beauty—

their beauty wins them no added pleasure, grace is

only a cat's way

of getting without fuss from one place to another—

but because they see things as they are. Cats never mistake a

saucer of milk for a declaration of passion

or the crook of your knees for

a permanent address. Observing two cats on a sunporch,

you might think of them as a pair of Florentine bravoes

awaiting through slitted eyes the least lapse of attention—

then slash! the stiletto

or alternately as a long-married couple, who hardly

notice each other but find it somehow a comfort

sharing the couch, the evening news, the cocoa.

Both these ideas

are wrong. Two cats together are like two strangers

cast up by different storms on the same desert island

who manage to guard, despite the utter absence

of privacy, chocolate,

useful domestic articles, reading material,

their separate solitudes. They would not dream of

telling each other their dreams, or the plots of old movies,

or inventing a bookful

of coconut recipes. Where we would long ago have

frantically shredded our underwear into signal

flags and be dancing obscenely about on the shore in

a desperate frenzy,

they merely shift on their haunches, calm as two stoics

weighing the probable odds of the soul's immortality,

as if to say, if a ship should happen along we'll

be rescued. If not, not.

found here

*thank you sam

{another} Try This: Chapter 1, part 2

I don't want...

I don't want my children to be selfish. I don't want them to think that their way is the only way. I don't just want this for my children, I want this for everyone. I don't want people to be close minded. I don't want people to label others or themselves. I don't want my parents to call themselves "conservative." I don't want people to eat meat as voraciously as they do. I don't want to judge people or think that I have a right to tell them how to do something. I don't want to be hypocritical. I don't want to want to hibernate when I am stressed out. I don't want to find myself alone after years of life and marriage. I don't want to worry about the past in the present. I don't want to dwell on things I have no control over. I don't want to be envious. I don't want to worry about my hair/weight/abilities. I don't want my dogs to die. I don't want to forget who I am. I don't want to loose myself in other people. I don't want to take anyone for granted. I don't want to take any moment for granted. I don't want to stop learning. I don't want to be anxious, angry or impatioent. I don't want to grow up. I don't want to not want to grow up. I don't want to wish for things I don't have or want to be someone that I am not. 

{another} Try This: Chapter 1

I want...

I want to live in a small house with a big dog. I want my rooms to be filled with overstuffed chairs and too many pillows. I want pictures to be my decorations and my bookshelf to reflect who I am. I want to walk in and feel like I am at home and that my home missed me while I was away. I want walls with bright colors and artwork that I have made. I want secret hiding places in my ottomans and a lamp by the biggest chair. I want a small terrace with write french doors and a potted lemon tree. I want a table that is hand made and has its own personality. I want it to be too big for the room but too small for all of my plates. I want my aprons to be on the kitchen door and my red mixer on the counter. I want a coffee table to hold books about cooking, Spain and my adventures. I want to have dinner parties with wine and jazz music and too many opinions. I want lots of hors d'oeuvres and gluten free brownies. I want to laugh and love and play and end up back in my bedroom with my husband when everything is done. I want to play in the sheets, the shower and the kitchen. I want to cook and run and love. I want to fall in love over and over every day when he walks in the door. I want too many kisses and too many hugs.

{Thank You}

I almost forgot to give credit where it is very much due.

Dearest Christine,

 

Without you, this blog would not be happening. Thank you for believing in me, growing with me and loving me the way you do.

You are so wonderful.

Thank you for being the best best friend. You mean the world to me.
Love, K

 

Try This: Chapter 1, part 2

I Don't Remember...

Now go for another ten minutes. This time begin with "i don't remember" and keep going. This is good. It gets to the underbelly of your mind, the blank dark spaces of your thoughts.

*I have copied this from my word document almost verbatim. 

I don’t remember my grandparents. I don’t remember a rhinoceros ever being in my kitchen. I don’t remember what clothes I wore on my first day of school. I don’t remember what it was like to be kissed for the first time. I don’t remember my first bath. I don’t remember a time when I was bored. I don’t understand people who get bored. I wonder if that is how people actually relax… just becoming friends with this “boredom” because I don’t remember ever feeling like I had NOTHING to do. I don’t remember what it was like to try cookie dough for the first time. However, I do remember my mother saying “open your mouth and close your eyes and you will get a big surprise!” and this was usually a spoonful of brown sugar. Or maybe not. I don’t remember my first bunny. I don’t remember why I did not play with it more. I don’t remember why I liked material things as much as I used to. I don’t remember why I acclimated myself with a political party when I knew nothing about politics. I don’t remember why I started to not like the dentist. I don’t remember why I did not like certain people at my elementary school. I know I was just as awkward as they were. One time I even caught myself drooling. I was wide away talking to my teacher and just drooled on myself. I also had a purple rollie backback. Actually it was blue. I was jealous of LIndsays because her’s was cooler. I don’t remember why Morgan and I stopped being friends in the second grade. I don’t remember why I did not try harder in 7th grade. I don’t remember why I was so fascinated by The Sims. I don’t remember why I was so bratty to my parents on my way home from kindergarden. This continues to bother me even today. I insisted on walking twenty yards in front of them. Did I think this made me a grown up? Oh I had so much living to do. I have so much living to do. I don’t remember being in love with a boy I said “I love you” to. I don’t remember why I said it. Actually, that’s a lie. I do. I was afraid that he would see through me that I did not really love him and then stop loving me and at that time in my life I needed his love. I don’t remember what a brussel sprout tastes like. It looks like a small green flower and I would like to like it, but I think my reasoning behind wanting to like the brussel spout is the same as my reason for liking Salt and Vinegar Lays Potato Chips- I need to be different

Try This: Chapter 1

I Remember...

Do a timed writing for ten minutes. Begin it with "I remember" and keep going. Every time you get stuck and feel you have nothing to say, write "I remember" again and keep going.

*I have copied this directly from my word document almost verbatim.

I remember walking along the beach in Florida with my long hair getting caught in the wind behind me. It was an amazing day as usual and the waves were nonexistent. However I was sad. I felt like I was never ever going to be a whole person again. I felt like I had just had a piece of myself painfully, surgically removed. I was listening to the Amelie soundtrack and twirling trying to loose myself somewhere between time and space. It is not a happy time to reflect upon but I remember spinning on the white sand feeling weightless despite my heavy broken heart. I had just been broken up with. He had had blue eyes and we had dated for just over a year. I had completely given myself over to young love and lost myself on the way. I defined myself as his girlfriend and forgot who I was. I remember crying to my parents that I would never be happy again that I would never love again… They just sat there and listened and loved me. All they had to give me were the years of experience they had beyond my mere 18. “You will be okay.” I thought they didn’t get it. Thank goodness I was young. Thank goodness I have patient parents and loving friends. The aftermath of the week in Florida (which was the week after the break up) was one of the best times in my life. I remember feeling hope after hopelessness, I wanted to tell Cher YES I DO believe in Life After Love because I am living it! And I was living it well. I made dinners, dresses and friends. I played board games, watched Will & Grace and finished my To Do lists. I walked around the Rose Bowl, I had weekend Barbeques I took vacations. I was excited to be single. I was dating myself. I learned that I did like wearing bright colors and hated scary movies. I learned that learning to love myself was just as important as finding the love of my life.