some goals set on my drive home.

for some reason, i set a few resolutions for myself on my drive home this evening after work. new year's resolution-ish. in the middle of the year. and i decided that i am going to follow through on these ones. asap. no matter how trivial they may seem to the onlooker, they all hold some level of meaning to me. and it's simply about time i've tackled them.

so immediately:

1. move out. into my own place. preferably downtown chicago. preferably wicker park.

2. join a worship team. or somehow figure out how to sing as a servant again. now that i am settled in back here.

3. paint some pieces. with scenes i  have been itching to get out on canvas finally. it's time.

4. start a photoblog to keep track of the wedding/engagement shoots and to direct future clients to.

long term:

1. write my book. i think about it all the time. so it needs to happen. and then maybe it might be good enough to make some money that i could donate to causes i'm passionate about.

2. learn to play the mandolin. and then the dobro. two absolutely stunning instruments. the sound of them brings about the same comfort level as a down comforter. i could listen to them all day. so i'd like to learn.

3. learn italian. 

4. practice my art therapy program with human trafficking/boy soldier victims. 

some big. some small. all invaluable. 

"Don't give up on something that you can't seem to go a day without thinking about."

i feel these images today.

and sad but true, i fear that this might be my reality and stance on love today...

why i wish i was raised in the south.

so that i could get away with a wedding like this one. 

my favorite look for bridesmaids that i've seen yet.

too bad i'm not a southern belle like i've always wanted to be.

sad day.

(via one love)

moss graffiti.

[how to]

i'd like to try this on the side of my apartment when i move to downtown chicago in a few months. 

love love love this idea.

also: 1. held back tears against this post.

2. streaming the ever perfect imogen heap. new stuff.

3. and in honor of my love for mischief lately.

the perfect summer mailing.

i adore these cards. to encourage affection.

from larkpress.

Don't let your mind get weary and confused 

Your will be still, don't try 

Don't let your heart get heavy child 

Inside you there's a strength that lies 

Don't let your soul get lonely child 

It's only time, it will go by 

Don't look for love in faces, places 

It's in you, that's where you'll find kindness 

Be here now.

(photo via sarah rhoads. song by ray lamontagne)

it has often occurred to me that a seeker of the truth has to be silent.

insert me please...

colorstrology.

colorstrology: here's mine february 8:: driven, quirky, charming, uplifting, progressive.

Although you are warmhearted, your emotions are not easy for you to handle. (truth) You have a tough exterior but a sensitive feeling nature. You may use more energy keeping people away than you do connecting on a more intimate level. (hmm, doubt it) Work and financial success come easily to you. (ha) Your personal color embodies the qualities of light and joy. 

the ideal bookshelf.

(via http://www.20x200.com/)

a fluttering bird.

wish i could have expressed this as perfectly as lindsey does. looking forward to seeing lauren tonight. and ready for a good cry...

One of the most wonderful things about being friends with musicians is the way it feels to meet a person, talk and laugh with this person, and then see this same person in front of a crowd, see this same person open her mouth and have behind her voice a strong muscle, a fluttering bird. A real artist is such a delight because he is someone in whom a gift isn't immediately obvious; it's something he can take out at any time, like a toy from his pocket. He can set it in his palm, wind it up, and let it sing, and sing, and sing.

Last night, while Lauren Zettler sang, I thought about the music that you put on to cry. That sounds like an insult, or a joke, but it isn't. The songs that you put on to cry are specific. It isn't that they're sadsack; it's that they knock against the tines of our chest in a way that echoes and aches in a strangely bittersweet way. In that way music can do, however it does, thank goodness it does. Lauren's voice and Lauren's songs did that. I kept exchanging glances with the women around me, all feeling the same way. Two songs later, Lauren's between-song banter began with, "You know how there are some songs that you put on to cry to?" I told her after her set that lately, mine are all Patty Griffin. ("Forgiveness" first, then "When It Don't Come Easy.") She agreed, said one of hers was Brandi Carlile.

I've cried to Elanors, Death Cab for Cutie, Simon and Garfunkel and The Beatles, Paul Simon again, countless times to "An American Tune." I'm all right, I'm all right, I'm just weary to my bones. Still, you don't expect to be bright and bon vivant so far away from home, so far away from home, the round vowel in home hollow, scraped clean and empty. I've cried to Tom Waits and his voice like knotted chains rattling come on up to the house, trumpeting this world is not my home I'm just a-passin' through like we both believe it. 

Does it ever happen to you that you have a problem you feel is too huge and interwoven to ever go away, and so you keep it inside you where it gathers and grows--and then as soon as you just talk about it to someone, talk even about the possibility of someday feeling better, it immediately lightens up on its own? I wrote last week about not feeling as connected to music as I had in the past, but I listened to Lauren's album on my iPod today, skipping back to certain songs, and then I came home and listened to everything I could find, and danced cross-legged in my seat. The reason some songs echo in our chests perfectly is that the people behind them felt that same way once, too, and know how reassuring it is to hear a familiar voice say, again and again, that they understand how you feel.

(via http://www.lalalindsey.com/)

convictions on love.

 (via kindovermatter)