365 Degrees

Planted Adrift

Do you ever feel adrift, like you might wash out to sea at any moment, only to realize that you're anchored firmly to bedrock?

It's difficult to know, in those times, which is harder: feeling untethered or being locked in place. 

Linger. Longer.

Today was the first day I really noticed how much longer the days are getting. This makes me inordinately happy.

And So Ends My 37th Year (Or, About Being Fortunate.)

I celebrated the arrival of my 38th year this weekend. (Which means, of course, that I turned 37...)

I had the good fortune to be surrounded by wonderful friends and an amazing boyfriend all weekend. To eat delicious food, drink my favorite wine, and spend a solitary hour at SFMoMA feeding my other senses. To treat myself to a little present from my favorite shop, and to lay my head down in a home I truly love.

If you ever catch me saying that I wish I could go back to my younger days, you have my full permission to flick me squarely on the forehead.

Many Yodas, There Are

I'm fortunate to be surrounded by some pretty amazing kids.

With them, I get to exercise  "auntie-privilege" -- a very special role that means I get to play with LEGOs, read silly books in goofy accents, make cool-gross science projects, and blow zrbtts on bellies until we both fall to the floor laughing. It's awesome.

Watching these kids evolve and grow, watching their places in their respective families take root, and seeing how incredibly important it is to give them a voice and encourage their individuality has been so inspiring. 

I know motherhood still isn't for me, but jeeze, am I ever lucky to love--and be loved by--these awesome little people. They have an awful lot of lessons to teach me.

Tel Aviv City Tripping

Very late, this post. But I was lucky enough to spend Thanksgiving in Israel thanks to a partner who had to be there for work, and who invited me to tag along. 

I spent a day wandering Tel Aviv with my camera, chasing the street art that was everywhere. Huge wall-size pieces, tiny rat-sized ones. Black spray paintings, colorful wheatpastings. Aggression, sadness and whimsy, sometimes all at once. 

More of the set here.

Connected Memories

Father's Day. People tell me it "gets easier every year," but that hasn't been my experience. Trouble is, I keep thinking it WILL get easier, and so get bowled over when it's not. 

This year, I was in Manhattan for work, with the rare gift of total anonymity.

I went for a run on the High Line, walked the city, took in a magnificent sunset, and ate dinner alone. In the absence of expectation to engage with people, I engaged with memories of my childhood in New York. And in those memories, I found my dad's company. 

Sometimes, I just need to be reminded that grief and solace both come in many forms. 

Reset

I have this... problem. When I fall behind on something -- whether it's returning a phone call, processing photos or finishing a project -- I seem unable to simply regroup, complete the task, and move on.

No, I end up paralyzed by my "undoing." I have an incredibly hard time re-motivating and acknowledging that sometimes, things just slip. I beat myself up while simultaneously ignoring the problem (a real gift, I tell you) until it's no longer front of mind or it no longer matters. I'm sure I don't have to tell you that this is not an ideal way to deal with life's projects, and usually ends with hurt feelings, irked collaborators, and a unhealthy dose of self-loathing.

That, unfortunately, is what happened with this bloglet. I'd stare at the TypePad UI, not knowing how to say, "Sorry I missed a few days. Sorry I didn't keep my 365 promise. I'm doing the best I can."

I want to change this personality trait. I need to change it. So, today I try again. 

Sorry I missed a few months. Sorry I didn't keep my 365 promise. I'm doing the best I can.

[038/365] Remembering the Playa

For four years, I've been going to Burning Man. The last three of those, I've helped coordinate Camp Pendant, a lively, warm, lowkey group of friends and relatives who've become my bona fide playa family. 

The memory of the morning this photo was taken -- walking across the dusty lakebed, watching people frolic as the icy night air was slowly, gently warming from the reappearing sun -- is one I hope never to forget.

[035/365] Exit

Sometimes I feel like my life is one big performance. 

[033/365] Revival

 

I've never really understood homes that are usually silent. Growing up, there was almost always music playing  in the background, and as an adult, I've pretty much kept the same protocol.

Music can be a source of motivation or calm. It can reflect my mood, or alter it. In many ways, it's my muse.

Tonight was the opening night of the Railroad Revival Tour -- six cities, three live acts, outdoor venues. The final song of the night, "This Train is Bound for Glory," was performed as a ensemble jam with all three bands. It was, hands down, the most amazing live performance I've ever seen.