In the wind

I was prepared for differences in climate and weather when I moved from one coast to the other, but I didn't know exactly how it would be different. The thing that has surprised me is the wind.

On windy days I go out into the world, and in the places and moments when the wind picks up behind me and pushes into me, I feel so alive. I feel whipped up. Aware. Awake.

I've been trying to put the feeling into words, and reading Women Who Run With the Wolves, by Clarissa Pinkold Estés, I came across an idea that resonates with me. Estés (who I just discovered shares my birthday, albeit in 1945) is talking about storytelling, and she says, "The trance teller calls on El duende, the wind that blows soul into the faces of listeners" (20). This line is paired with an end note that says: "El duende is literally the goblin wind or force behind a person's actions and creative life, including the way they walk, the sound of their voice, even the way they lift their little finger. It is a term used in flamenco dance, and is also used to describe the ability to "think" in poetic images. Among latina curanderas who recollect story, it is understood as the ability to be filled with spirit that is more than one's own spirit. Whether one is the artist or one is the watcher, listener, or reader, when el duende is present, one sees it, hears it, reads it, feels it underneath the dance, the music, the words, the art; one knows it is there. When el duende is not present, one knows that too" (519).

I love that feeling.

Sex Expert

One of the jobs I would choose if I could be anything ever (alongside indie "it girl" actress, indie "it girl" songstress - then older but still super cool actress/songstress - graphic designer, novelist, teen librarian) would be sex expert. I think it would be such a fascinating job, especially because so many people are so hung up about all things sex. Not to say that I don't have the awkward laugh when certain subjects come up in certain company, but I think of myself as fairly open, and would love to be one of the people bringing that openness to the world at large. Watching this clip about "sexting" the other day, I was appalled at the way the young women on the show were being villainized, and the way sex was being portrayed as "nasty." I think we (the media, schools, parents, friends) are doing a crummy job of educating ourselves and one another about sex and sexuality.

Luckily for all of us there are amazing people on the job, including Heather Corrina, the driving force behind scarleteen.com. Browsing the site today I came across an excellent article, 10 of the Best Things You Can Do for Your Sexual Self (at Any Age). Highly recommended.

Untitled

Why some words
put together
are poetry

And some are not.

!?

I have recently become disenchanted with the exclamation mark. I'm not sure where this feeling has come from, but every time I use one I feel a little bit cheap.

I came across a quote from F. Scott Fitzgerald recently that perhaps sums up my feelings: "An exclamation point is like laughing at your own joke."

I think it has to do with my minimalist self - always paring down to the essentials.

That said, if you are one of my favourite people who happens to use a great number of exclamation marks (of which there are a few), I find them charming when used by you. I mean it.

Punctuation marks I do like: ; & ?

Watching people

Tiffany made me go to Youtube to watch this video, and it is about the most adorable thing I've ever seen, for today.

I want a dove grey bedroom.

Like this one. (from Design*Sponge)

The Very Hungry Catterpillar

Do you know how much I am loving today's google design?


A whole lot, that's how much.

Let the Right One In

I didn't know what to write about this film after I watched it yesterday afternoon, but I was still thinking about it this morning, so I decided I had to write something.

"Best vampire movie. Ever," says the box. Now, ask any of my horror-freak friends if I like horror movies. Nope (except for a very few works of art, a la Suspiria). They scare me, and instead of going with that and being swept into the moment, my reaction is to completely take myself out of the experience. "It's a movie. It's just a movie," I repeat to myself. I don't enjoy myself at all. That said, Let the Right One in was a completely different kind of film. First of all, the word film is apt. The DVD menu had "play movie/film" as its prompt ("I'd rather watch a motion picture," I stated), and this is definitely more than a movie, if I'm going to be film snobby about it. Cinematic glory might be a better term.

Two lonely 12 year olds (one of whom has been 12 for a very long time) meet and fall in love. It is winter in Sweden - white and black. And then comes red. White:red. Snow:blood. Purity:murder. This film is beautiful, shocking, lovely, sweet, savage. Amazing.

10 stars.

I. Am. So. Excited.

I go out walking (way before midnight)

Today is such a glorious day that I had to abandon homework in favour of a long walk. It was so beautiful, and warm, and even though the trees are still bare I feel spring. Heck, I almost feel summer.

Two pictures from the walk: