Monthly Archives: January 2011


Am I the only one in the habit of attributing personalities to inanimate objects?

Sometimes I will see a plant, bicycle, or a jar and I will just get this overwhelming sense that they know a secret, or a joke and they are trying to share it with me.

Really, everything has a personality on some level. If you treat your belongings well, an observer can sense that. If you drink  juice out of your glasses with love and good thoughts, those glasses gleam a bit brighter; if you adore your car and caress it with polish, it will drive a bit smoother. There is such a focus on treating other people with kindness and respect, which is absolutely necessary as well, but it has occured to me that objects deserve the same respect in a way.

Enjoy your bed, nestle in it with a book and revel it its company. It is your sleeping companion, it knows all your uncensored behavior but refrains from judgement and faithfully holds you as you slumber each evening.

Once you open up this possibility of objects being company, you will realize that you are never truly alone (you can decide if this creeps you out or not). When you are lonely, hug your pillow, or lean against your wall.

While reading Hemingway’s short story, Hills like White Elephants, I really admired the girl’s natural inclination to regard everything as an independent entity with thoughts, feelings, and personality. She looked upon a beaded curtain as though it was saying something to her, and the hills as though they were innocently existing elephants–her environment spoke to her more than her human companion.

As a person requiring immense amounts of personal space at frequent intervals, yet perpetually suffering from an undefinable sort of loneliness, this concept is simultaneously intriguing and comforting to me.

I now look upon my house full of characters, instead of clutter. ;)


It is monday and I do not know how I survived but I did. The last 12 hours (give or take) have been a blur where the world was merely but a space in which I whizzed by in a blur.

My feet hurt, my soul hurts, I seriously need a lot of chocolate chips to remedy this. I leave you with some of life’s essential questions:

1) How on EARTH does one person (i.e. me) manage to generate such vast quantities of dishes from one measly meal?!

2) What does one do with a box filled with more oranges than a human being could possibly eat in a week (how long I predict them lasting before they get squishy and disgusting)

3) Was pilates originally invented as a form of medieval torture?


Sunday is known as funday for a reason.

It is the day of the week to wake up slowly, stretch out, take a long shower.

Pack up your bag full of homework and spend soy cappuccino-fueled hours at a coffee shop

Get a paycheck, baking sheet, and and a box full of oranges from your mom. Eat a generous portion of peanut butter filled pretzels while watching the Daily Show online.

Admire the cloudless sky and mild weather, take a nap, cook (and tupperware) a batch of veggies for the week, go see a movie.


Enjoy all the little things that this day offers. It is beautiful.


I often gripe about being too busy for my own good, but the truth of the matter is I get incredibly restless when I lack responsibilities. Due to this, although in theory finishing my Friday at noon is lovely–it leaves me with a fair bit of down time.

Today I decided, after fueling myself with a copious amount of green tea and almonds, to finally organize all the junk I have accumulated in my room over the past few weeks

One trip to World Market and the hardware store and I was all set.





absolutely out of more rhyming words on this one…Wait!–FAM! DAM! CLAM! none of which make sense.

moving on, there are still many more things to be undertaken. The next of which include

replacing my ghetto substitute for a lamp with a proper light fixture.

hanging these frames

up on this wall

finding a less goofy yoga location

and loving on the coneheads!

OH wait, already did that ;)


so ready for an evening filled with wine, clothes swapping, beautiful ladies, and cooking.


I remain stagnantly one-hundred percent supportive of any excuse to wear a dress, eat guacamole, or create a playlist.

Such an occasion has arisen this week in the form of walking to school. I throughly enjoy walking, even in heels, and the trek from my new place to school happens to be the perfect length.

Short enough to avoid seeming daunting, but long enough to facilitate a certain form of meditation.

However, as much as I enjoy the soothing sounds of screeching brakes and the perpetual hum of construction in the university area I much prefer to listen to some jazz on my commute. Hence, the creation of a playlist.




neglected things are being taken care of. I always consider the first day back at school the true beginning of the ‘new year’ as far as responsibilities go. So, happy first day

kitties are being spayed/neutered (finally) so all possibilities of incest are eradicated.

and off to learn and such ;)


Philosophy of Soup

I have this theory and before you ask, yes it does involve soup. of course.

It goes a little something like this..

When your world becomes turbulent, insisting on violently tossing you about  and you can’t quite seem to grasp any shred of normalcy there is only one remedy to set your mind straight.

Step one: Breathe. Take one of those deep, life changing breaths that center you and invigorate you more than any cup of coffee could possibly accomplish.

Step two: Put on your apron, slippers, put on some jazz, and gather your gaggle of vegetables.

Step three: Chop your little heart out–dice your frustrations out on the cutting board. As the carrots, potatoes, zucchinis fall away into little fragments under your knife and your multicolored army swells across your counter begin to toss them into a large, bubbling pot. Your troubles will evaporate with the sensational smell of your comforting creation.

Step four: Have a glass of wine..or two..while you patiently await the soup to form.

Step five: Eagerly ladle a bowl far to large for common sense, sit down, close your eyes, and enjoy.

There is something about that first steaming bowl of jumbled goodness created by you that is comforting and satisfying in a way that escapes definition. People ask why I talk about soup in a mildly obsessive manner, it is rather bizarre I realize, but it really comes down to this indescribable correlation associated with safety and love that is perpetually nestled in my brain .

Though I have paralled the soup experience with..other affinity for this mind-mending method stems from something much deeper. There is never a time when soup will not fix a bad day.

So. On the darkest days when your head is hopelessly tangled in knots that you cannot even fathom beginning to unravel, give it a try. This simple act is essentially a reminder to slow down, meditiate upon the simple beauty of the world.

Plus, you get to eat at the end–and honestly what is better than that?