Monday

There's a Mitt Romney for prez sign in front of Tony's Porn and Lotto.

Eternity...

...is forever.

Wenders Inspired

Reconnect vs. Disconnect

Today I feel like part of a Wim Wenders movie, things surreal and black and white and German. After a Thursday evening bout with food poisoning and a Friday viewing of Wings of Desire I am thankful to be alive--in all seriousness.

Today I try to pay attention, at the coffee shop with Abby and Amanda, three chairs and a table. With Susan and talk of her studio in which I want to live some days. There's a woman whose MS is acting up and she and Ernie talk gently. There is other conversation about photos and writing and choices and editors.

There's a touch of spring in the air, though it is January. Spring makes me want to find people, reconnect. Ernie and I wonder back and forth about people we've known and where they've gone. I tell him about an old friend of mine. Yesterday I'd been poking around the internet when I found a website for calligraphy and handmade paper. My friend is a papermaker now and a small business owner and a workshop giver, offering paper making to public school children and adults around town.

I am surprised, this the guy I broke up with because, among other things, he'd never had a job. He hadn't needed to work because everything had been given to him. Last thing I knew he'd taken over his parents' clothing business and had recently become a father. That was 11 years ago. I remember because I took the call in the front room of our Newburyport apartment. I'd been married a year. We talked about kids. "You should have one of these," he said. "They're great." Then he described his typical day which did not involve much in the way of do-a-job work. He still had mostly everything he wanted, not much worrying or overworking. I felt a little jealous.

But I don't feel jealous now. I feel surprised and curious and wanting to know more. Spring is in the air and I want to know more. Why do people do what they do? Change? I'm going to ask. And I'm going to start by sending an e-mail to an old friend.

The Shins are the band that I am currently trying to kill with obsessive listening.

Mighty Joe go-into-youtube-abyss-and-find-the-gems video hunter extraordinaire sent me this. I like it.

Thanks Joe.

Lichen in the sky with branches

Photographic evidence from our "not a walk"

Some day they might figure out my tricks. And that I'm really not that tricky. But today it worked well enough to call what we were doing "not a walk." I'm glad.

This Morning

Time to do something about the windows.

Since I Could Write

For as long as I can remember, my parents, or church or someone required that I make New Year's resolutions. Often reluctantly, because someone was standing over me, I'd sit down and make a list. It usually went something like this:

1. Get better grades
2. Exercise (starting around middle school)
3. Lose weight (starting around middle school and one that shouldn't have been on the list but was for all sorts of hideous and ridiculous reasons)
4. Don't gossip
5. Be nicer to my brother (this is when I appreciated having a big family)
6. Be nicer to my sisters (some years I dedicated a line to all three)
7. Be nicer to my mom
8. Be nicer to my dad
9. Write more letters
10. Practice piano and violin more

Then once I got out on my own, leaving the home of my parents and religion behind, instead of ditching the lists, I started writing pages of detailed, elaborate and totally unrealistic resolutions. I will be a good person. I will. I will. I will prove them wrong, I think, was my thinking.

I kept writing lists, on and on, one for each new year until a few years ago. "Fuck it," I said. "Who needs resolutions?" People don't keep them anyway. And I went nearly two resolution-free years until last year when I made one: to get out more.

Getting out more has been good. It's made me feel like I exist somewhere beyond the world of three young children and motherhood. I've seen things, heard music, had conversations that I wouldn't have had otherwise. I feel human.

And perhaps this is why I've decided to make a resolution to write resolutions again. Not the stupid ones from childhood (o.k, maybe there is a little crossover). Not 10-page books of ways to betterfy and beautify (crossover again). But plain Jane, simple resolutions. The kind that might actually make my life different, or someone else's.

2008 New Year's Resolutions

1. Take a photo every day (or almost every day)
2. Write letters: specifically: Jason, John, my grandma, my aunt, Olivia, Issac and Grace
3. Deal with shit as immediately as possible--this applies to literal and metaphorical messes
4. Go outside, get walking, take notice
5. Let people know that I love them (I get to be creative with this)
6. Use less

I'm still not sure that I believe in writing resolutions. But it's difficult not to. Each year when the calendar rolls over, I find myself thinking about them and what they should be. This year I didn't fight it. I gave in. Which makes me think that adding a seventh is in order. There are times for fighting and railing against the establishment (my establishment). And there are times for quietly and peacefully giving in. This is one of those times.