Because film is always better…

27 01 2010

It has been raining for more than a week, and there are leaves and mud everywhere.  And as I wake up, wrapped in the warmth of the fireplace, I notice the sun finally shinning.  Last night, maybe because of the tea, or maybe the lack of alcohol, I had a dream I can’t remember, but I suddenly feel a sense of peace I hadn’t felt in a while.  I look outside, and the world seems huge and full of possibility, I take a breath, feed the dog, make some coffee. Everything is constantly changing, and the calm that surrounds me is deep and quite, and the snow has covered the mountains, and standing here on this beach, I feel strange and surreal, almost like part of a movie whose script I didn’t approve, but one I’m starting to like anyways.

Holga SLR

I’ve been writing more letters, and I am still taking pictures, and if only I could pay more attention when I am making breakfast I would have used less peanut butter and more apples, less milk and more inspiration. I’ve been making decisions, and rethinking my options, and if I could only find someone to share more stories I would have less fighting, more sunny Sundays, less drama, more beers, and less expectations.





Week one down, 51 to go…

11 01 2010

Last year ended wrapped in emergency work, old friends, a new boy, an amazing dinner, a dive bar, and resolutions… This year has just started, and I have barely managed to get through the days. An insane work schedule, wishes of being somewhere else, late night goodbyes soaked in beer, trip planning to spend time together, and Sophie getting horribly sick… But I am taking it all in, the good with the busy, the sweet with the friday night emergency room visits, the distance with the late phone calls, the hangovers with the morning breakfast. And I am sticking to my resolutions, taking more pictures, being a better friend, letting go of fears, exploring my feelings, enjoying the little things. Because in the end, that is what it is all about, the little things, the foreign songs finally translated, the text messages to keep in touch, the emails asking for my advice, the conversations over lunch about relationships, the two year old boy who stole my heart and my cookies, walking through Santa Monica holding hands, the memories that we share, the stories of friends reunited again, the late night pizza, the tears, the constant wishing that he was here for one more day.

I spent time with some amazing people, I got closer to others, and I fell in love with my Polaroid all over again. I shared secrets, ideas, cigarettes, and stories, and I saw myself as a stronger, wiser person, as one that can take on anything, one that understands her limitations, one that constantly fights against them. I opened up to the possibility of uncertainty, and for the first time, slowly eased into it, replacing the anxiety of the unknown with the quite whispers of the sunsets. Breathing in the serenity of not wanting to have it all, right now. Understanding that the process is as necessary as the end result, and enjoying every minute for what it is, without having to ask what will come next.

Sunrise





Friday Wishes

11 12 2009

Because holiday shopping is about to begin…

For Hanukkah…

Wood Menorah

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For the instant gratification…

Instax

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For the colors
Dreidel
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For getting the cool Holga look and not having to carry an extra camera

Diana

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For my collection
The Button

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For my living room…

Rug

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For more time, for less traffic, for more kisses, for less worries, for more sunsets, for less anger, for more sharing, for less expecting, for more sanity, for less medication.





Because I was 20 minutes late…

16 11 2009

I look around, barely seeing what is there, rushing through the morning rituals of imported and over sweetened coffee, and showers that are always too cold, and being late one more time.

My plan to wake up early enough to have a decent breakfast for a change, has failed, and if I could only wake up when I am supposed to, well, maybe I would feel better.

Sophie is crying, and refusing to go outside, as if she shared with me the feeling of wanting to stay under the warm blankets for a few more hours. Laundry stares at me from the corner, and I still need to get those jeans hemmed.

Coffee. Where is the coffee, and did I take my vitamins? I need to get more film and more apples. At least the gym bag is already packed.

I am trying to swim out of the fog of sleeping late and too much wine and calls to the other end of the world. Maybe this living in two time zones I’ve been doing for the past 5 years is catching up. Or maybe it was that extra drink I had Saturday. Either way, I am still late, and tired, and the alarm is still screaming somewhere.

And my car keys are nowhere to be found.

The crisp autumn wind comes in through the door, and while it fills the house with possibility, it takes me back to his stories. I stop, and listen, and feel him close even though he is a million miles away.  My eyes get slowly filled with tears, and right then I decide to leave the memories of him in a drawer, and I take a sweater instead.





Doesn’t mind carrying a few choice pieces of baggage so she has a conversation starter in almost any social situation

1 11 2009

Baggage

I drink too much coffee. I miss too many people. I say too many swear words. I laugh at too many inappropriate things and keep quite when I shouldn’t. I personalize songs all the time. I spend too much time online. I’m not as good as I should be. I could be a better person, sister, friend, artist, student, than I am. I rarely exercise. I never finish my to do lists. I refuse to be bored. I get angry too fast. I skip breakfast often. I am not so good at taking my own advice. I like too many things. I have an insane crush on Anderson Cooper. I am complicated and funny and smart. I do not like sleeping alone. I want to travel the world. I have to brush my teeth if I wake up at night. I am impulsive. I’d rather get burned than not try. I spend too much time cultivating my vices. I talk too fast. I am constantly looking for answers. I am not a patient person. I want a man who smiles when he talks about me. I wish my brain had a map to tell me where my heart should go. I take too many pictures. I am passionately curious. I am constantly falling in love with stories and reasons and airports.  I struggle with uncertainty, and I believe that a life without wine is not worth living. I am a collector. I’m a little bruised, slightly broken and permanently scarred, but I’m still here, aren’t I? I’m still fighting; I’m still waking up everyday to go through it all over again. And I know there is someone out there looking for someone just like this.





Because weekends should have their own soundtrack…

5 10 2009

Here is some inspiration to help me start the week…

This girl is only 17

all you need is love

This weekend we spent time with this guy’s art
Joseph Beuys
Joseph Beuys art

This would look great on my wall
Tigerlily

The weekend started Friday, with a day trip to Beverly Hills with a friend I’ve known since I was 12. After macaroons, iced lattes, and talking about boys we parted ways. I had to get ready for dinner at Katsuya with Lucy, which as always was amazing… Saturday had a late start, but it was full of great conversation, more iced lattes, a visit to the LACMA, a new burger place, birthday kisses and lovely music. Afterwards, Lucy, a great concert, beers, and mexican tacos @1am… Sunday was spent reading books and meditating and feeling grateful for all the amazing people I get to spend time with, and all the music they bring into my life…





Last night I went running…

30 09 2009

The silence that surrounded me felt surprisingly comforting. The sea next to me, its lack of blue hidden by the darkness, brings smells of home, of far away places. As I run, trying to focus on my breathing, on my speed, on my muscles, I remember. And suddenly I am distant. Somewhere else. If it weren’t for the fog, I could be anywhere. And my pace increases, and my thoughts drift, and race through my head, one triggering the next. The smell of the ocean, sunsets in San Juan, times with old friends, sunrises in Tel Aviv, coffee with myself, this same beach, him there with me.

And suddenly I rush back, gasping for air. It feels like autumn, and the air is heavy, and for the first time in many days, I notice his absence. And I let it embrace me for a moment, and on the edge of hurting and wanting, I recover. Maybe it was the wind coming from the Pacific, or that my run was almost over, or maybe the feeling of possibility that comes with every change of season. In any case, I felt better, awake, happy, at peace. And I did the only thing I could at the moment, while running in the dark, with the smell of the sea around me. I gathered all those feelings and sent them to him inside a cloud, surrounded by the songs and kisses we used to share.