listening to:
yellow taxi, matt costa
by my side, ben harper
extrasupervery, frightened rabbits
tit smoking in the temple of artesean mimicry, devendra banhart
save your day, jose gonzalez
boy with a coin, iron and wine
slipping through the sensors, fruitbats
man-revolutionary!, rogue wave
napoleon on the ballerophon, beirut
have to explode, the mountain goats
shout out loud, amos lee
peace train, cat stevens
lost!, coldplay
old college try, the mountain goats
woods, bon iver
b
Monday, February 23, 2009
Thursday, February 19, 2009
kitchens
one of the greatest joys of living in an apartment is having my own kitchen. it's so nice to have food and utensils and recipes and friends together in one place. kitchens are safe places: places for us to gather together, to celebrate the simple joys of good food and good company. just say the word "brownies" and you'll have a crowd surrounding you, and no left overs (thank goodness).
these past couple of weeks have been an interesting adventure. i have found myself frequently overwhelmed by things, being back at linfield: questions about my experiences in england leave me stumbling for words, large groups of people leave me nowhere to focus, multiple conversations happening at once leave me mute. it is wonderful to be back, no doubt about it, but it is a different place then when i left. i'm a different person than when i left. and the result of those truths is that i find myself simultaneously at home and a stranger.
kitchens are somewhere that i feel at home and "at" myself, always, no matter what. i know what to do there. i move easily between spices and oils and vegetables. i can look at a bunch on ingredients and imagine possibilites: i can create things without inordinate effort. it's a free place, a quiet place, and a productive refuge that permits me to create an environment in which the things i most desire--conversations with close friends, shared laughter, "mmmmms" and "yummies"--can be achieved. kitchens are places of inherited and lived love: they are my mom's place and my grandma's place, and my place too. i share it with those i love most, and to me there is just something so special about beating butter and sugar for cookies while you joke with a friend.
i turn to the kitchen for solace. there i beat away my stress with a whisk amidst eggs, and sift through my thoughts as i sift flour through my fingertips. i find joy in the smells of fresh baked goods or sauted veggies. it is my release lately, and though it may not be good for my waistline (or those of my roommates), it's been keeping me sane. and sanity is good i think.
so, if you can't find me these days, don't bother to call. stop by my kitchen and ask what's in the oven. you might even get some.
b
these past couple of weeks have been an interesting adventure. i have found myself frequently overwhelmed by things, being back at linfield: questions about my experiences in england leave me stumbling for words, large groups of people leave me nowhere to focus, multiple conversations happening at once leave me mute. it is wonderful to be back, no doubt about it, but it is a different place then when i left. i'm a different person than when i left. and the result of those truths is that i find myself simultaneously at home and a stranger.
kitchens are somewhere that i feel at home and "at" myself, always, no matter what. i know what to do there. i move easily between spices and oils and vegetables. i can look at a bunch on ingredients and imagine possibilites: i can create things without inordinate effort. it's a free place, a quiet place, and a productive refuge that permits me to create an environment in which the things i most desire--conversations with close friends, shared laughter, "mmmmms" and "yummies"--can be achieved. kitchens are places of inherited and lived love: they are my mom's place and my grandma's place, and my place too. i share it with those i love most, and to me there is just something so special about beating butter and sugar for cookies while you joke with a friend.
i turn to the kitchen for solace. there i beat away my stress with a whisk amidst eggs, and sift through my thoughts as i sift flour through my fingertips. i find joy in the smells of fresh baked goods or sauted veggies. it is my release lately, and though it may not be good for my waistline (or those of my roommates), it's been keeping me sane. and sanity is good i think.
so, if you can't find me these days, don't bother to call. stop by my kitchen and ask what's in the oven. you might even get some.
b
________________________________________________________
kitchen dance
(for erik)
there are knives here
and spoons
the smells of onion
cooking in butter
and the spices that are
lined up
along the counter
you are here too.
you dice the peppers
and i watch the pan
we move amidst each other
with an ease well known;
the fruit of daily, well practiced.
we play our roles well here,
and together lay the table with
all kinds
of dishes
and eat.
and afterward at the sink,
our lips meet over the bubbles--
clean aftermath of another kitchen dance.
kitchen dance
(for erik)
there are knives here
and spoons
the smells of onion
cooking in butter
and the spices that are
lined up
along the counter
you are here too.
you dice the peppers
and i watch the pan
we move amidst each other
with an ease well known;
the fruit of daily, well practiced.
we play our roles well here,
and together lay the table with
all kinds
of dishes
and eat.
and afterward at the sink,
our lips meet over the bubbles--
clean aftermath of another kitchen dance.
Monday, February 02, 2009
this other life
this morning i moved my boxes of stuff out of our storage room here at home, in preparation for my move back to linfield. i found myself hefting boxes and wondering to myself "what on earth is in this thing??" the weight of those boxes surprised me... it is the weight of a life that i haven't been living for a very long time now. it's so strange to feel like a stranger looking at my own things again, and yet i'm finding the weight of that realization to be a good thing.
coming home was like slipping back into a pair of well-worn shoes for me. it was comfortable; molded to my shape. coming home was what it was supposed to be--namely, a homecoming. for the first time in months i feel completely at ease in my own skin. i have fallen back into my normal routines of early bedtimes and wakings, i eat yogurt for breakfast and dress in scratchy wool sweaters inherited from friends. i drink tea and read books and listen to my quiet music, and turn off the t.v. every time i get the chance. i talk to my mom about the garden and animals and both our growing passion for sustainable agriculture. i read pages of wendell berry, and finding my thoughts written in his words, i am filled with joy. i know without a doubt that i came home at the right time. things were falling apart in the place where i was; i had been gone for long enough, and it was time to come home again.
there is a weight that followed me here though, and it is the weight of the realizations i have had since being gone. the past five months have been months full of soul-searching and struggle for me, and it is only now, in the quiet of my wood-heated living room that i am finally confronting them in all of their heaviness. the weight is good. it is the result of an understanding i have come to with this place that i come from, and to which i have longed to return. it is the heaviness of the new knowledge that is in me, after all of my recent experiences. it is the realization that i am growing up, and all that that entails (i hear of people i knew in elementary school who are getting married, or who are pregnant, and i think to myself "aren't we too young for this?"). it is the weight of hopes and fears for the future, and my combined timidness and excitement in facing them. it is the anticipation of returning to this life, and the load of musings that accompany such a reunion.
so once again i find myself a stranger to myself... i am so changed from the person who left this country in september. and yet, miraculously, i know myself better for it. the estrangement is a realization of who i am becoming, and that is something special. i feel more confident in myself, more settled in my convictions, more comfortable with the uncertainty of my life. it's like i'm growing into myself. and maybe growing up a little bit too.
and so, this morning i will pack up my things for the hundredth time in what feels like only so many days, and walk forward into my future. on my shoulders is the weight of this new understanding. in my mind and heart there is a clarity. it's time to return to this other life, and make it my own again.
coming home was like slipping back into a pair of well-worn shoes for me. it was comfortable; molded to my shape. coming home was what it was supposed to be--namely, a homecoming. for the first time in months i feel completely at ease in my own skin. i have fallen back into my normal routines of early bedtimes and wakings, i eat yogurt for breakfast and dress in scratchy wool sweaters inherited from friends. i drink tea and read books and listen to my quiet music, and turn off the t.v. every time i get the chance. i talk to my mom about the garden and animals and both our growing passion for sustainable agriculture. i read pages of wendell berry, and finding my thoughts written in his words, i am filled with joy. i know without a doubt that i came home at the right time. things were falling apart in the place where i was; i had been gone for long enough, and it was time to come home again.
there is a weight that followed me here though, and it is the weight of the realizations i have had since being gone. the past five months have been months full of soul-searching and struggle for me, and it is only now, in the quiet of my wood-heated living room that i am finally confronting them in all of their heaviness. the weight is good. it is the result of an understanding i have come to with this place that i come from, and to which i have longed to return. it is the heaviness of the new knowledge that is in me, after all of my recent experiences. it is the realization that i am growing up, and all that that entails (i hear of people i knew in elementary school who are getting married, or who are pregnant, and i think to myself "aren't we too young for this?"). it is the weight of hopes and fears for the future, and my combined timidness and excitement in facing them. it is the anticipation of returning to this life, and the load of musings that accompany such a reunion.
so once again i find myself a stranger to myself... i am so changed from the person who left this country in september. and yet, miraculously, i know myself better for it. the estrangement is a realization of who i am becoming, and that is something special. i feel more confident in myself, more settled in my convictions, more comfortable with the uncertainty of my life. it's like i'm growing into myself. and maybe growing up a little bit too.
and so, this morning i will pack up my things for the hundredth time in what feels like only so many days, and walk forward into my future. on my shoulders is the weight of this new understanding. in my mind and heart there is a clarity. it's time to return to this other life, and make it my own again.
b
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