positive pointing #41: I'm thankful for my dog

thesatorialist.blogspot.com

okay, i am not a dog person.

I think that they are at worst, deserving of death (picture skirt , wet nose and absolutely NO respect for personal boundaries)and at best, hairy, in the way and sucking up precious attention that should be given to hurting humans.

.

i do, however, have total confidence in finding MY dog.

Because, here's the thing: I've never seen my childhood dog, Jember, as a dog.

I remember looking her in the eye as a kid and thinking something like: "I know people call you a dog, but you couldn't possibly actually be one. I know better. and I'm sorry they call you that." Sometimes I'd just forget altogether that she was anywhere near the realm of being called something as horribly degrading as "dog". It would be quiet, just me and Jember and, call me crazy, I felt like we were having a conversation with no words and that there was just this peaceful, harmonious exchange of agreement happening. She would ponder. I would think. And there was nothing resembling doubt in those honest brown eyes. I gave her the same courtesy.

.

.

My house would be bursting at the brim with people and noise and, if summertime, insufferable heat. I, thinking only of sweet escape, would rush to the door yelling "outside? outside?" sweeping the leash off it's hook on my way. A few seconds later, a faint jingling would become a crystal-clear one as Jember arrived at my feet and dutifully sit and wait for the clipping of the leash, which we both knew was just a formality. Off we would go into the peacful world beyond my house: our river, our rocks, our piers, our field, and the emptying sidewalks of our little town. We'd walk, again, along our rows of sycamore trees that lined Hambrookes Boulevard and when she'd turn her head to me, I'd unclip that bothersome leash, watch her dash off, always gratefully, to a ridiculous gaggle of geese who were in need of some excitment anyway. I'd just sit in a sprawling ocean of grass and a sea of life-giving breeze.

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Every dog is just a dog: a muzzle, some fur, four paws and, honestly, incredibly dull-witted. Jember is not a dog. My dog will not be a dog.

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I am not, nor will I ever be, a dog person.

thank God for neurals part 2:

www.sfgirlbybay.com

part two of the neutral-love post is very small
but so very beautiful.

here's my new revelation:

flat neutral is ok.
textured neutral is where the action happens.
that's where something like poetry starts to form in my head
and i have to fight to keep from grabbing a pen and paper
because the poem would end up cheesy
and completely nutso.

but that's how i feel
so instead

so i race over to my poor, overused laptop
log into my blog account
and throw up a picture
and i write a little ditto
and my poem becomes a short, shared declaration
and i'm settled again.

and waiting patiently for your words on the matter:)

positive pointing #40: thank God for neutrals

www.sfgirlbybay.com

neutrals are killing me right now.
I'm not sure if i'm becoming a boring adult (yikes! am i?)
or just simply a sophisticated lady (hot pink? no way!!)
or perhaps I'm being swept along with the general consensus
and have no mind of my own at all.

regardless,

I'm in love with beige like never before.
I'm over the moon about grey.
gloomy? no no. a hushed beauty? yes.
White is taking over almost all the space in my design projects.
(negative space is my new darling. it's fascinating.)

rich and soft browns & the palest shades of yellow

but everyday i become more curious:
is this Kyrie becoming boring? It this how it happens? You just give yourself over to white walls and brown couches? And you think it's the best and perfect. and it's actually not. all you've actually done is do what everyone else has done. Is this how all that happens? People just, one day, get tired of color and discover neutrals and they fall in love with them

and with fences
and formulas
and frying pans
and ordering the same thing every time

is loving beige just taking me one step closer
to getting the same trim from the same hair stylist
every three months for the next seven years (at which the hair stylist will retire and i'll be forced to change. and be unwilling about it. and hesitant.) ?

ps. ok, so i'm not dying for the black and white slippers.

yellow then, yellow now

fall 2008

spring 2010

together then, together now

positive pointing #39:home sweet

I'm thankful for my home
that I share with one of the dearest people I know, lauren mae
(kyrie-mate perfection)
I'm thankful that when i'm home, I truly feel at home
and peaceful
there are snacks in the fridge
and there's laundry to do
and carpets to sit on while i do homework
and within all of that nothingness, there is harmony. finally.

I'm thankful that our house finally feels arranged and right.
and not lacking.
(I feel 'lacking' so intensely in my home)


and that all the parts of me that are inside of me
and in my head.
all the things i love
are suddenly in front of me. visible.
so I can rest and simply be.

I'd like to use my hands again, please.

Sometimes

after I'm done struggling through a page of website coding
and when I'm in the thick of internet tutorials
or when the side of my thumb goes numb from clicking
and when I've been staring at a screen so long that it feels like
I'm running a temperature
and my eyes have a slight burning sensation
and my face feels ever so slightly
like it's sunburnt
from the light of my little laptop

I want desperately to draw again.
anything really.
like I used to.
before the computer occupied the space in front of my head
for more of the day than I'd like.

I want
the pencils. the chalk. the paper.
the smudge of lead on the side of my hand.
and a inexplicable smear across my cheek.

the whole bit of it.
I'd like to use my hands again, please.

Lighter Longings

Sometimes I think I'd like to be a smoker

I like the idea of smoking:
taking a step outside
hanging out with people you don't know that well.
sharing what you have
with people you don't know at all.
concentrating on nothing but breathing
and looking at nothing but whats right in front of you
or beneath you
and just staring
loving something so much that you'll
stand in the freezing cold for however long
it takes to get it

and you have a pocket full of these pauses all day
and could even buy a romantic, hopelessly-swagger lighter
to add some charm.

and then i remember that it's soot
and makes my internal organs frusterated
and i get all discouraged.

maybe i'll just hang out with people i don't know that well
and stand in the freezing cold waiting for something i love,
and share with people i don't know
and ask to be excused from class
so i can go stare at the ground
or just concentrate on my breathing
for awhile

maybe i'll just go ahead and do that anyway
and suck on a lollipop.