the middle?

i'm riding my car through these familiar roads

gravel, and dark turns, around the bends there's always something new.

but it was all expected.

i always knew that my car was going to hit another pot hole

and it would probably almost run out of gas again

but what i didnt know

was at the very end

my car would make the right turn

onto 'greener-grass alley'

and what i would come to expect was primarily

the unexpected.

im still in my car.

im still driving,

but i have no idea where all the potholes went

i have no idea how  long a day takes to pass

or how short my patience tests

i'm on a whole new road.

and i'm more scared than ever

because, what if this one has no map?

Photo Studio:

read my past entries, on a series im doing for my photo series. Thinking about people in moments, in patterns- not in faces. This is my brain map. This is how i think of people.

a post that never posted: From October 22

what's in my bag:
anthropology magazine
dunkin coffee mug
laptop cord
laptop
cough drops
pens
spoon
construction paper
journal

whtat's in my head:
coffee
dancing from last night
blisters
ankle socks
cutting my bangs
getting more scarves
replacing my toothbrush
neurologist appointment
paying a parking ticket i dont deserve
coffee
sunshine
dancing tonight
where will i live
what will i do
how long will i do it for
how long will i have this cough for
how much longer do i need to work
why do i need to work

Pappou Memories:

i can see you for coffee
good and bad cups
decaf, and greek cups
i can see you for a lover of all things
for all sides of the story
a lover in general
i see you and the way your lips hold their formation
how they form their accent on words i take for granted, and we make fun of you for
i see you for your clip on sunglasses
and the felted hat that's silky and red on the inside
i think of you and your left hand, and how you have remained faithful for all these years
i think of you and the table you feed me at
the wooden table, the knit place-mats, and the crocheted seat covers that slide around
i think of you in dim lighting
and fisherman floods
for flashing hazards, and 63
think of you and your right cheek and how it feels when i kiss it
i can see your hair, white feathers that never know what they want, especially on your hat days
i see your belt popping over the back of your slacks, and the fanny pack filled with euros
i see your fast pace, and willingness to progress it even farther at 83
i see your lamp, and your handwriting that glows underneath it with important phone numbers
your red clock, and jesus painting all enclose the bunk beds room, and i can see them staying in the same spot for a while now
i hear you in the crickets at night, and i smell you on a shirt i own
i see you in many shades of brown, in gold, and in blue
i see you in shades of light, and shades of color
i see you in words, and in instances when they dont need to be expressed that way
i can think of you in warm summer nights in Greece, and i can think of you on cold days in Northern New Jersey when you refuse help shoveling.
i see the blue carpet, and the mirror that reflects it all
i see your steps, and how frequently you took them
olives and feta, i can think of you in tastes
tomatoes and oil, i can remember you in consistency
i see you for pink hula hoops, and ruby red grapefruit juice, grilled cheese done wrong, and entiments boxes that i will always get offered.
i see you in memories that have a long life to lead, and in one's i can only hold in my hand as evidence that you smiled, or stood that way
i see you in every which way that's good.
every half hour chime, every bathroom mishap, and all family gatherings where you oversee it all.
i see both of us together, because that's how my memory always regains its composure

For Mom:

i can see your hair
lots of hair, and lots of changes i'll never approve of
roots of grey
some of out of tuned brown
but all images of hair
i see your finger nails, and the skin that gets ripped off when you don't know what else to do
i see you in patterened aprons
and jeans that rise just a little too high over your belly button
i think of your front tooth
yours and mine similar in the way it rotates subtly
i see the birth mark on your head, just as mine mimicked as well
i see you for the freckles on your back, and the cyst you had removed when i was 5
back when i didn't know what a cyst even was.
i think of you in grids, and color codes
calendars that are one day early
and clocks that are 3 minutes fast
i think of you in labeled shoe boxes, and eye lashes that have the chance to be something bigger
i think of the blue bed spread, and how it canopies over your legs after a long day
i think of you on the couch,tv flickering on your closed lids
i can see your purse, the tin foil from the gum that makes too much noise in church
and the commerce bank pens that always fill out blank checks
i see you in pace, and steady movement
in tree branches, and car seats
i see the tags that hang from your keychain ensemble
and the noise they make when you enter the house
i see you L.L.Bean tote bag you've had since i remember our relationship as mother and daughter
i see you in hand movements, movements that communicate to the ones that cant do their ears justice
i see you in eyebrow shifts, in expressions that try to communicate what her heart wants but words cant
i see you in greens and browns, blacks, and navy's
patterns of clothing fill in spaces of memory i wasn't around for
patterns of dance costumes, florals that hang in my closet, red sequins up in the attic
i see you in skinny hard copies
legs a prominent subject
i think of you as many parts, never as a whole
i think of you in terms of what i will look like soon
but maybe never
i see the radio on, the blue squares indicating the car is going to be cold in a few minutes
i see paint chips on the wall, and green coffee mugs that line up with intention
i see the green place mats that are ready to make it to the wash because Ben spilled ketchup again
i think of you in color and texture
green and ever changing hair and charts
i'll never write on that calender, mom
but i'll hold contentment that there's a place for just about everything
even the L.L.Bean bag that's always a part of the family.

Memories of Dad:

i think of you in hard copies
in major in minor
in memories that are holding on by threads
of ones that are stuck on with the oil pastels you hung all over the house
my memories consist of your five o clock shadow
and the rhythm of your feet moving as i stood on top of them
i think of you in large hand movements
slow and steady, fortissimo, and never out of tune
i see you with the plaid button downs, and the quilt that never left the bed
memories of nbc waving to me in the morning, and eagerness for the day
i remember our reflections, not yours singular, but ours together
the cologne on both our wrists, and the tile on your floor
i see the almost brown carpet
and the soup cans that lined the shelves
i remember every single quarter i ever stole from your car console
and the look of disappointment that you knew i snuck out
i remember your hands, and i think of them as a close friend of ours
i think of you in black and white keys
in brass reflections, and harmonica shapes
i can see you in memories and hard copies
smells and sounds
i try turning the volume up
but as i get older, it seems that i cant reach for the knob quite as well
i can see you in the waves
in the ocean at pompham, and in the rain in kutztown
i see you in ever snow flake, because thats where you speak to me now
i see you on a roll of film, and on every piece of fruit i dont wash
i think of you in moments in time, and patterns from the past
i think of you in your glasses and the imprints that were left on your nose by the end of the day
i sometimes have the privilege of remembering your face but i mainly get glimpses of
the navy emblems on your green jacket, the tag inside that had more of a chance of surviving than my memories do now, the socks that pulled right above your ankle, and how just how very big your hands felt as they engulfed my whole body.
i am your child, in memories, and hard copies
in photos and in memory banks
i'll keep this volume turned up as loud as i can
because if i dont, i'm not sure what else i'l have to hold onto.

About

its not about the small stuff

its not about your car breaking down

its not about your chapped lips

your stubbed toe

or your mom seldomly coming around

its not about what you're wearing

and not about what he's got on

its never about your mistakes

your mess-ups

or your 'what-i-did-wrong's'

its not about the speed limit that you never follow

and its not about the tag that always peeks out

its not about your apathy for today, your future, or the situations around you

its not about those comparisons you fease up because its 

not important nor never will be

its not about them, or she, the collecive or the singular

and its never about all of it

it's about your DNA persuading your lungs to be the real you

it's about your feet warning your pulse when there's a new turn

it's about the moments of brief certainty when your synapses and heart shake hands once again

its about never knowing how many grains of sand or galaxies of stars there are to count

because it's not about that

we're a brief moment in time

and that's what we're about.  

Where She Goes, Nobody Knows

im often overwhelmed with where i'm going, what my plans are, and what's in store for me past may. How will i know what my life's purpose is? How will i get through tomorrow's and this-second? Cant I just forever NOT know?

everyone just wants me to know: to know what my exact plans are.

what if im on the 'no-plan' plan?

so tonight, as i cringe and write my essays, and complete work that leads up to my graduation in may, i find myself feeling a little run-down, and stressed. so, this was definitely a bit of a booster. 

don't feel pressured by the stupid people around you.

Perfect for this Moment

Sofia's People: Canon 5dmk2 24p from Philip Bloom on Vimeo.

Look Closely

A body of work im working on

though i don't know how i got here

nor where i'm going

though, im excited where i am

and where i could be.

my first time shooting with film

my first time shooting in the theme of double exposures

my first time really planning conceptually.

an uncomfortable feeling in many categories, 

but, as my professor says,
"its good for me"

Coffee Inspired:

 Whether you knew it or not,
it was the day of all days
the day i should recognize that i came out of the womb.
the day of celebration
"National Coffee Day"

So, cheers to that!
everyone who knows me,
knows i love myself a good cup o' joe.

I Need to Move:

MOVE from Rick Mereki on Vimeo.

Art: For Real

i saw and went

i drew and told

i watched and listened

i spoke and answered

i drifted and wandered

i began and remained

i accomplished and experienced....

 

first day of early field

i think this is what i want to do

until i grow weary

innocence

to be in this phase of my life again...

Atop a Mountain

 

anddddddd

that's right. it's that time of year again! Where paint seems to dangle off me like ornaments, and ideas come flowing out like the stream that flows down the alley way. I'm always changing my mind, consistently recreating better ideas for myself, and forever going over color pallets in my head to conger up the best composition for my next painting.

i'll have to admit, it's been so nice, somewhat of a breather even, to just be able to free flow paint. i wrote a blog last year, and i dealt with hard trials and struggles, in my thoughts that i had maybe lost my ability to create any furture artwork... ever. I thought canyons were filling in, mountains were collapsing, and i was converting to a left brained math major. (ha). Glad to say that, if i have an issue, an emotional disruption, or a hard  stumbling block in the way, it shows through my artwork. Its a thrill that right now, i am gladly dealing with any sediment compacted down, i am living in the right-here-right-now, and i am enjoying each breeze that passes by. Life is meant to live. We've got one. It's not like a book, where we can go back, and re-read it again, and re-live it. One shot. So, i figure, at least my paintings will be the best visual evidence that i lived as whole heartedly as i could. God have me talents, He gave me the ability to see color and light in ways that most cannot, so i should celebrate that!
cheers to a new found beauty. Cheers to standing tall, and having a child-like faith. Cheers to this painting that reflects all of that into one.

Lost & Found

As certain as the north star being dead ahead of you

As certain that you check the "f" vs the "m" box on all doctor forms and questionaires

As certain that 6pm will come at the same exact time tomorrow

As certain as the way you grew up, has now affected you as an adult

As certain as the birthmark on your left leg

As certain as the autumn crunch, the winter's glaze, spring cleaning, and the summer lull.

As certain that coke and pepsi are close enough, yet entirely different to form a radical view.

As certain as the two horizontal lines that will never unite, that God lives in my heart, as addition will never be subtraction, as certain that the stars are far, and as certain that it's okay to be uncertain every once in a while.

Yours and Mine

I love love, in all shapes, sizes, ages, and moments in life. Love captures the spirit, and warms every crevice in your body like you never owned it in the first place. Love has a time and place, and it's beautiful when it arrives. Love wins. I love that.

Finally, Let's Celebrate

in a world where moments fall off trees like leaves in the autumn,
and time cannot seem to stay at the party long enough.

in a world where perceptions are exchanged for wonderment
and questions are always answered with more questions.

in a world where you run, and chase, and stumble
and finally let free your hands to find another orange cone.

in a world where mornings turn into grey afternoons, and grow into weary nights
and our sheets come up to our chin and we can start all over again.

in a world where we've grown accustomed to our do's and don'ts
and our neighbors are still figuring the why's and how's about us.

in a world where the ground is ever changing with dampness and color
yet the sky is a continuous exchange of predictable blues.

in a world where my thoughts seem so unique and one of a kind
someone else right now, is having the same struggle many rivers away.

in a world of 196 countries, 7 continents, 1 moon, many fish, and uncountable critters
there will never be another steph berry.

let's celebrate, lets run to another land.

A Brisk Walk

without haveing to knock my fist on a wooden table three times to ensure i have not been jinxed,
im just going to jump the gun and get to it:
i feel like im at a good place right now.

most days, i feel as if im steadily climbing up a hill...
possibly even a small mountain.
and i'mheavily breathing...
possibly even holding my own lack of oxygen.
im climbing, and tripping, and treading the dirt
and quite possibly, i feel like i'll never get to the top.
i'll get to a good pace
possibly even smile about it.
i'll soak up the sun
and possibly even gloat a little.
i'll look around my surroundings
possibly even wonder how i made it through.
and then, waves come from the sky
boulders wash up on shore
and smiles of success turn into frowns of questioning.
i may brush off my knees, and stand up on my ground again
and begin my journey i am much too familiar with.
so then begins the cycle again..
mountain jogging, oxygen deprivation, and wonderment of "where am i going, and how did i get here?"

today however, i am not jogging, nor sucking in my next breath
possibly im looking around, ready to duck for the next meteor that will ornament the trees
possibly im keeping still, very still, to make sure the fresh fields around me, are actually part of my story line, and not just some dream that may awake me with disapointment.

i feel good.
possibly great.
i feel content
possibly eager.
i feel at ease about trials and jogging, and mountains
possibly even ready enough for a boulder that comes rolling in.
i feel ready, and aware that this feeling can be put into turmoil at any moment.
possibly, quite possibly, i feel like my own body
my own flesh and charisma, and whit
actually belong to me.

i have a feeling i don't need to knock on wood any time soon
possibly, just possibly, i can't jinx it this time.

Sewn Thoughts

the air, tonight, is peppered with a shift in thought,

an alteration in captured threads of felted thinking.

not yet being able to solve a solution,

or stategize the strategy,

rather, the task of identifying, is the first toe in the water.

a glance upward, diagonally across, and bending downward

is where i want to be. my 'x' on the treasure map.

no strategy can be given

no solution can be revealed.

just peppered air, allows for both feet to touch the water.

a step in the right direction. 

 

The Drive

leaving, passing, driving away from your today

Let the shady air slide through your fingertips

Trees canopying over your speeding travels

let the sunshine melt through your thoughts

lines dissolving into yesterday

let the air current sift through your hair,

passing down the body

and into your conscious.

any doubt wisked out your window.

it's just you and the road.

the wind is your hair.

side note: im ready for fall

Viable Visuals

I am harmony

Bent through the air

And intertwined with sings and songs

Beneath the tidal wave of the loudest voice

We hang in the sky of pitches and openings into  a new sound

The resonance of fleeting hums and sweeping strums

Of sings and songs

Yours and mine,

Bent through the air,

To become one.

I am harmony.

One Hundreth Post

if you watch the water, 

it's never going to boil.

if you stare at your phone,

it's not ever going to ring.

if you are trying to find your keys

they will show up when you aren't searching.

if you stare at the clock

it will never be the time you want it.

if you need the rain to come

the drought will persist.

if you lost your train of thought,

it will come days later, when the conversation has passed.

if you are looking for someone,

they'll seek you out when you least expect.

so, the hard part is

not ever knowing

when i'll be 'least expecting' it, is.

a catch 22 of waiting.

I love you

It's as simple as that
from 1, 2, a handful of friends
as simple as a text.
as simple as three words
sent to the heart
reminded that you are
indeed loved
by many.

Hoping

the view outside of a storm's roar
reminds me of my heart's song.
a look inwardly,
a beautiful storm;
in the eyes of the beholder, that is.

Far

when i get outside
and look around
its only natural for me to hear you
in the stars.
like i can hear you looking at the same
constellations that my eyes are fixed on
though we're far and distanced
i can feel you watching the same scene im watching.
and even on the crummiest of crummy days,
the comfort of knowing that we're
split between state lines
yet conjoined through constellations
makes me feel not so far, or cold, or scared.

today, though
when i got out of my car
to look up at that night sky
i knew you weren't looking along with me.
i could feel you forgetting about the stars
and i could just feel
that we were indeed separated by state lines
and we were in fact not held together
by the star's common ground anymore.
i knew, it was only i looking up
into that blanket of constellations.
and in that moment, because i knew i was alone in my star gaze
i felt more distanced than ever.

A Yawning Sky-Shape

fireflies moaning in rhythm

a visual lullaby of a hushed season.

stamps of tiny feet on the summer blades

outside our house.

a constant nightlight,

difficult to keep a focused stare.

a quiet siren

a melody of glitter

in the quilted air.

a look right, a look left.

they're here, they're gone;

fireflies running with the night.

Fragrance

and all that remains 

is a beautiful debris,

and a song in the wind

only you and i can hear.

Two Ships

heavy hearts, heavy ships
being carried out into the opposite direction.
such a magnified, concentrated preview of time
we filled each space needed to be filled.
intrigue, questioning, admiration.
desire and love as much as another can do so
within such short notice.

you find yourself searching, searching, searching
just for someone to notice you.
for one month, you go out of your way
to lock glances in hope that they would see something
special in you.

yet life isn't meant to try so hard.
life doesn't have to put in so much effort.
love, like a contagious spell
seeks out its next victim
and catches both representatives off guard.

ready for my overwork glances to be packed away
into my suitcase,
an effortless gaze sought me out.
locked me in
as if i had no choice but to hand over my heart
only somewhat in tact.

like snowfall in this summer heat
was my expectancy for this
seemingly flawless attraction.

attraction turned into admiration
admiration into wonder
wonder into the surreal
surreal into the believable
believable into an impossible love.
the impossible love into my packed suitcase
and a goodbye that i wish i never had to remember.

heavy hearts, heavy ships
being carried in the opposite direction.

& Me

 

sea, you standing there

sea, you coming in

sea, you looking towards the moon

sea and me aren't so different you see. 

Weak

lets just say that
the greeks put way more alcohol in their mixed drinks
than the pathetic americans.
cheap-date-steph if you ask me.
its been 2 hours since the consumption of a cosmopolitan
and i think i'm good for the... week.