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if i could just emerge from the rubble of wedding magazines and ribbons and dupioni silk and hot glue guns and contracts and invitations and catering menus--i would pull together more than a few words about these odd days. believe me, there is a ton of good writing material here. this metamorphosis period known as “planning a wedding”.
i will simply say, this is undoubtedly a rite of passage. and even though i am more surrounded and immersed by family and friends than i have ever been in my life ever, it has been a lonely, weird, bittersweet, joyful process of learning and growing and understanding.
i will put on my wedding dress on january 14th. i will marry the man that i love. and afterwards, i will search for shreds of my self underneath the confetti.
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no news is good news
i was sitting across my mom when she slowly turned the newspaper page she was reading and involuntarily let out a long, exhausted sigh. that single exhalation pretty much sums up everything i've been feeling about the news lately. in fact, i've found myself shutting off to it these days.
i still read it online, as always. i still feel the usual pangs of frustration, sadness, anxiety, empathy. but afterwards, instead of absorbing it and letting it stew in my blood for a while, i turn off. as though i feel i can't spare the emotion. the bad news is endless. it is selfish, i know. but i'm finding i don't want to learn about death tolls or theorized motives of suicide bombers. i don't want to read about senseless deaths of children or the squabbling of politicians or the injustices and inhumanities around the globe. and i certainly don't want to read about narcissistic celebrity lunatics and their girlfriends. i want to live my life the best that i can, being grateful and not letting the world's troubles flatten me out. but i can't sit still or float by selfishly in my bubble. i feel helpless. i find myself angry a lot. misanthropic, even. my positive, compassionate self--the one that smiles at strangers--goes into hiding. and soon even headline-skimming makes me want to stay in bed for a week. is it just me?
i am keenly aware that this is a luxury--this freedom to "shut myself off" when i feel overwhelmed by the rumblings of the world. many people in others parts of the world don't have this luxury. having been brought to the states at a very young age from a war-torn country, i'm one of the lucky ones.
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things to do before i die:
ride a mechanical bull
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the sensible thing is to stay focused on my work
creativity has absolutely no sense of propriety. it shows its pretty head only when i have an ugly, long list of urgent tasks and looming deadlines at work, and only when i can’t give it any attention---except for sneaked-in moments when i hastily jot down blooming ideas as though they were love poems, and make for-later sketches on paper "borrowed" from the copier machine.
the chief enemy of creativity is "good" sense.
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mr and mrs munhall
i've always been fascinated by old photos of strangers. who are these people, and how have their photos ended up being sold for a dollar at a sunday flea market? was the photo lost during a move or accidentally left inside the pages of a donated book? or more likely, have the subjects or the recipients of the photo died--and all value of the photo sadly lost along the way? will this happen to my photos one day?
i'm always tempted to buy and bring these photos home. to give these strangers a new family, of sorts. realizing that this could be a ridiculously excessive collection, i decided that i'm allowed to bring home just one special photo for every time i visit the flea market. i'll put these photos in a "family album". and one day if i have a home and the space, i'd like to put them up on a wall.
this photo, above, is lucky, because it has some clues handwritten on the back.
please meet vera and howard munhall, ages 17 and 19, from oklahoma. puppy's name and age unknown.
you can see more photos of the flea market.
or see more of my flea market buys from yesterday.
happy 4th of july!