Repeat Offender

For those that read both my skirt! blog as well as this, my utmost sincere sorry for the repeat of posts today. My inspiration for ideas was a little lackluster... uh. So, here's a little non-skirt!-worthy post, in honor National Poetry Month coming to an end.

Summer's Promise

Looking forward to lazing.
Eyes closed to sky above.
Softly buzzing grass speaks.
Dreamers dream of warm new love.

Antsy.

Exciting things on the horizon.

First stop: Tonight, I get to see Ira, face to silver screen for a special This American Life livestream movie theatre event. He's pretty cute for a radio personality, no?

photo courtesy of cute Emily and her button cute blog.

And then there's: My work-in-progress-website. It's a slow and learning process, but it's happening folks. I even bought a domain name: writingherstory.com. Don't go there yet. Ain't nothing there. For a sneak peek, check a very rough draft of my homepage below. (I'm still very much fiddling with fonts, leaning towards using one of the handwritten variety for effect).

And, guess what?: I'll hopefully soon be learning to letterpress from local duo! What a joy to be able to take real steps towards realizing my Design 09 dreams. I've been offered a chance to learn the beautiful art from a couple so generous with their wealth of their knowledge. Stay tuned.

And finally: Two upcoming beach visits. Me + my enormo stack of unread books + sun + sand = pretty boss.

I don't need none of your bad news today.

Uprooted

I've noticed an extraordinarily high number of uprooted trees in the Birmingham area, due to recent storms. Round every corner, I see big-A trees overturned as if they were empy tin cans. It's as though their deep-running underground veins didn't even put up a fight against the high gale winds that whipped through their branches. Now, they lay in straggly surrender, showing their undersides, exposing their weakness. They were once fixtures. Now, they're next years' firewood.

These trees mirror a situation all-too-familiar to many jobless people here, there and everywhere. What was once firm, stable, grounded has been felled. Overturned securities are appearing on every roadside. I could soon be joining them. Nothing is guaranteed.

What was sure yesterday, may not be tomorrow. I will bloom where I'm planted, and when or if it's time, be a new seed scattered.

That someday is today.

“Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again.”
--C.S. Lewis

Her shelf bends with the weight of books devoured and conquered.

But, she chews on passages for months, nourished by their beauty.
She is well-versed in classics, can cite and allude to the greats.
She keeps up with the best-selling modernists.
She is considered well-read.
She revisits, rereads, turns back.
She is thought to be juvenile.
She loves the feeling of completion.
She loves words.
She reads to discuss.
She finds friends in her pages.

A Bowl Full of Jelly(beans)

It's never too early in the morning for jellybeans. I would know. I've already almost emptied my Easter basket and it's not even 11am. I was just sitting here thinking...chomping on the fruity myriad of flavors...and thinking. If I were to invent a few new flavors to add to the mix, here's what I'd suggest:

-Pomegranate Margarita (namely made with Gnar)
-Blackberry Cobbler
-Chocolate Cake with Peanut Butter Icing from The Grit
-Skim latte (extra foam)
-Cranberry Grape (much akin to the Ocean Spray variety)
-Chocolate Dipped Strawberry

And of the more savory (less-likely) kind. Just for funsies:
-Barberito's Mini Burrito
-Flax Seed Muffins
-Rosemary Ham
-Trader Joe's Tomato Soup
-Sourdough Bread (warm from the oven)

What bean do you have a hankering for?

Learn to labor and to wait.

Per the prodding of a friend, I've posted one of my newfound favorite poems below. The last stanza gets me every time, as its most pertinent to this time in life... I am half settled and half spontaneous. I am half domestic, half adventure. I am half dreamer, half sleeper. I am half content and half dissatisfied. Each time my eyes comb these words, I'm reminded that it's an art to learn to balance my inner "laborer" with the one who waits for what life will bring next.

A Psalm of Life

WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN SAID TO THE PSALMIST

TELL me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream ! —
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real !
Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal ;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way ;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle !
Be a hero in the strife !

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant !
Let the dead Past bury its dead !
Act,— act in the living Present !
Heart within, and God o'erhead !

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time ;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate ;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Blink and It's Gone

My mind is a-flitter with IDEAS.

for a new website planned to house my resume, clips, pictures, la la la.
for newfound gumption to do some freelancing.
for learning.
for a creative-kick-in-the-pants.

other folks are scheming and doing fancy things.

let lameness, laziness, lolligagging STOP HERE.

here's to grand ideas and the resolve to carry them to fruition.

I Must Confess...

Sometimes, a girl just needs to get some things off her chest. You're not likely to find my guilty confessions to be terribly interesting. But, today, I'm uncensored. We'll call the following "Cory: Unplugged."

If you give a care:

1. I can't even count on two hands the number of cookies, cupcakes and other sweeties I've eaten in the last 72 hours.

2. I recently started flossing (albeit irregularly) after a 5-6 year hiatus.

3. I've bought tens of books in the past few months, and only managed to finish the ones I borrowed from the library.

4. I watched four consecutive episdoes of Felicity last night with my roommates.
5. I'm a self-confessed penny pincher, but am seriously mulling with the idea of a $300ish, 24-hour trip to Telluride this summer for a 3-day bluegrass festival o fabulous.
6. I haven't showered in a couple of days, and I don't know if I will today, either. Gasp.

7. I sort of tattletaled on someone yesterday, and it felt a little bit sneaky and a little bit awesome.

8. I should've outgrown this I know, but sometimes, I still want to be famous for doing something extraordinary.

9. A small part of me wishes again for the freedom of joblessness.

So, there are some of my secretz. My true confessions. What're some of yours?