Tuesday evening’s tasty groove to help me wind down, courtesy of Lhasa de Sela:
Author: approximately
busting it out (again)
I TOOK ANOTHER STEP TODAY: I broke out my SLR and started photographing again. It’s been sitting on a shelf in my closet since August. I’d see it every day and think about taking it out, but it seemed too much of a hassle for some reason. I finally charged the battery and cleared a memory card, then took it with me for coffee this afternoon.
I just…love photography, so, so much. I can’t believe I let this go. I should never let this go.
four photos + four short stories
Street, outside the Sheldonian Theatre, Oxford, England. Just a few days into the trip, I’d began to dig into the cobblestone, bespoken charm of my new surroundings. Everything felt so old, so surreal, so different and concurrently, so beautiful. A friend took this photograph as the sun was setting on a popular street — one I’d walk down many times, in and out of bookstores and coffee shops, the same street which I’d buy my first map of London. I loved England.
Film garage, San Francisco. After a month in the city, I hadn’t made too many connections. One night after work, a co-worker invited me out to a film. The show was put on in an old garage filled with film reels stacked floor to ceiling, wall to wall. A small space cleared away held several rows of chairs and the film was projected on a wall. We all sank into the hodgepodge of theatre seats, our convenience store snacks cradled in our laps. We looked at one another and laughed during the funny scenes, though no scene was really all too funny; it was just a funny experience, and we were all in enjoyment.
After the film we spoke a few words before making our way to eat the most glorious burritos at a small taqueria nearby. The ceiling was draped with hundreds of flags in green, white, yellow, red and blue and we sat at a wooden table absorbing each bite. It was the first time I’d found such company, and the onset of the rest of my summer.
Dad, Rice Lake. It is a rare occasion to see Dad sitting on the couch at the lake. Any time I visit he’s building something, or fixing something, grilling something, trimming, clipping, or mowing something. When we first moved in the lake place, my siblings and I sometimes wondered how we were to entertain ourselves without a watercraft (or at least one with a motor). Dad’s answer to this was always, “You can sit on the dock, or dig dandelions.” It’s been the ongoing joke for years, even though Dad’s since bought a jet-ski or two.
This is an image of how I always want to remember my Dad: Relaxing. Wearing his silly hat. Belly out. Probably in the midst of saying something slightly witty. At his cabin. (It’s just too bad you can’t see the sandals and socks…)
Bedroom, Minot, N.D. I’d just returned from Europe and was immensely sad about the end of my journey. At the time I was faced with finding a job, paying off the debt brought on by my trip, searching for a new place to live, and getting back into the groove of life while living with my parents. This particular Sunday I’d just returned from church with my family, and wanted to crawl back in bed to avoid the looming responsibilities. I’d realize by the end of the summer that the first few weeks of my return were actually the easiest, and that the days would only grow longer.
I landed a full-time job as a cashier in the hospital cafeteria, where I went about each day rising at 4 a.m., putting on my checkered blouse, apron and hairnet, and serving food to the patients, staff, and visitors that strolled through for a meal. Aside from the workers, many of the people I helped had no desire to be at the hospital; they were there because a loved one was unwell. Some days felt I had to walk on eggshells to keep the day in line. I’ll never forget eating the same lunch every afternoon on the skywalk over Burdick, and looking down at the cars driving under me. After work I’d run for miles in the park, and think about the days ahead of and behind me. It was a strangely poignant summer, but the years after would prove that everything happened for a reason…
don’t think twice
The only way I can think of to find you again…
I’m a-thinkin’ and a-wond’rin’ all the way down the road.
good + bad = goodbad
THE LAST 24 HOURS have been genuinely draining. I suppose the weekend in general was bittersweet — there were many realizations and frustrations.
My good friend Benjamin was in town from Minneapolis and we had a really brief but lovely time. We had lunch at my favorite Drunken Noodle in downtown Fargo and did a bit of gallivanting about town, including a stop at a comic book store! (It was like a whole different world!)
Ben is very talented young man, and during his visit he informed me that he was selected as the student speaker for his upcoming college graduation from MCAD! I am thrilled for him and wishing I could make it to the ceremony (his speech is going to be quite hilarious).
The frustrating part of the weekend comes with work. I really wish I could find the motivation within me to create, and earn a profitable income from creating — so much that I wouldn’t have to work any other job(s). That would be my dream, to just create and have flexibility with life. I feel that I have the ability to do so, it’s only a matter of the funk I’ve been in for a while that’s been keeping me from getting started…
I know that I just need to start. (Please pardon me if this is turning into a pep talk.) The other night I was sitting at home working on a paper, and the thought crossed my mind, “I should go to the gym.” I have this thought a lot — probably two or three times a day, every day — but for the last year, I’ve never acted on it. So I set my laptop down, got up from my chair and I went to the gym. It blew my mind. It felt so good. I felt so good! The whole time I’d wanted to exercise, the whole time I’d known that exercising would feel incredible, and yet I never pursued it; I’m a stubborn creature. It makes me wonder about the other things that consistently cross my mind, the things that I think of but never act on (the things I’m PASSIVE about, to put it bluntly. I dislike the word ‘passive’ so I avoid it…) and there are many of them.
Okay, enough, done. But seriously, if you’ve never been a comic book store, GO! Great people watching. Good conversation. A nerd’s oasis.
water rising. etc.
THIS IS THE WEEK the F/M area has been preparing for months — flood time. The river is supposed to crest around 41 feet on Sunday or Monday. I’ve been noticing flood walls go up and streets close down, completely filled with dirt barriers. I crossed the Red River while driving on the Interstate earlier this afternoon, and the water has risen to a level where one-half to three-quarters of many trees in Lindenwood Park are submerged. I’ve never seen anything like this.
Last time the area flooded I was thankfully in Europe, and never got to experience the sandbagging, flood fighting, evacuating, etc. On the flip side, missing out on Flood 2009 leaves me with no idea what to expect. Everyone that’s described the past flood to me summed it up in one sentence: “The town shut down.” Thankfully my apartment shouldn’t be at risk, and from what I understand the city is much more prepared this time around then in 2009 (though there is an urgency for sandbaggers, and I’m seriously considering volunteering). Regardless, there’s going to be obstacles with the city in a frenzy.
I just received a phone call from my supervisor at work telling me that I’m likely going to have to evacuate my clients during my weekend shift — they’re already packed and ready to go, and to just grab their meds and flee to a hotel.
Things are getting interesting.
two songs (that got me through the past three days)
Adele | Make You Feel My Love
This song makes me feel like hugging everybody, probably crying a little bit (happy tears), putting my arms around several friends and swaying side to side, then falling onto my goosedown comforter and sleeping the rest of the day. Oh, and eating chocolate. Lots of chocolate.
Okkervil River | Okkervil River Song
I feel like I should be in a forest when I listen to this, or down by a river, or swinging from a tire swing into a lake, or sitting around a campfire with a banjo. That’s the beauty of this song. It takes me to a place that’s entirely uncivilized.
• • •
Going to push through this paper (it’s been connnnnnnsummmmming my life for three days), hand it in today (after I crank out an annotated bib) then:
01. GALLERY OPENING RECEPTION!
4 o’clock, Center for the Arts
5:30, Awards ceremony
& 6 o’clock, sleep.
One of my quick vegetarian favorites: Spinach & Apple Pizza. A little strange, but a lot of tasty!
sunshine. hallelujah.
ONE OF THE FIRST THINGS MY DAD SAID TO ME when I stepped into the new car wasn’t “Don’t spill anything,” or “Take good care of it.” He didn’t even say, “Don’t hit a cow with this one.”
He said, “You’re not going to have that sunroof open in the winter.” That was five years ago, and as hard as it’s been to contain myself, I’ve always honored his command.
This week I am finally able to slide back the sunroof that’s been capped in snow for the past five months and dissolve the winter blues. It feels so liberating to see sunshine and feel 40 degree air, I might keep the roof open until next November…
xx
j
of rings and things.
MY MOM TEXTED ME THE OTHER NIGHT to tell me that yet another high school classmate of mine was engaged — the second in one week. Initially I was astonished by the news, but it should come as no surprise. Both ladies have been with their guys for well over two years and are wrapping up their college years, stabilizing their lives and determining where they’re going from where they’re at. Of course they want their partner with them forever! I am incredibly happy for them in every way.
I forget that we’re 23, and not 17 anymore. These were the girls I used to wreak harmless havoc on the town with, play tennis with, and went through the growing pains of acne and junior high History classes with. We’d run the halls and play with our food at lunch! My mind is saying, “NO! NO! Not yet! Stay young forever!” but there’s no stopping time. Their next stage is not driving their rusty Oldsmobiles and Buicks down Broadway with their eight best friends squished in the seats, but looking ahead to more adulty things.
I know I write a lot about the strains of growing up — and trying to grasp that I’m growing up — but it’s constantly on my mind. My memory is sewn together by flashbacks of everything, and I’ve been deeply affected by particular people, places, and moments that only seem necessary to reminisce. It’s difficult for me to live in the “now” because of my love and longing for the past. I don’t know if I felt happier or if the world felt safer at five, twelve, or seventeen — but I always miss the days. My friends’ engagements reinforced the fact that life is unfolding each day.
At this point in time, I find it difficult to “make moments.” With a life is so saturated in school, friends and family in other cities, a boyfriend 1800 miles away, and the consistent stresses I put on myself to succeed, it’s so easy for me to feel totally lost. School and a long distance relationship are two of the greatest, most difficult undertakings, and I’m in the midst of both. I feel lagged. When does my interest in cookware and Martha Stewart kick in? Should it have by now? And why do I feel so behind in the adult game?
I can only compare these days to my junior high track career: Starting a race in the outside lane, running hard, and finishing in sixth place…
How does one alleviate this hurried feeling?
approximatelyes.com 