“the obvious is that which is never seen until someone expresses it simply.” // k. gibran
it would be easy to assume that because i’m prone to circling the roundabout of verbosity; sometimes taking the long way to get to a point – that my tastes otherwise would lean rather far on the oblique end as well.
yet, where i’m prone to being garrulous – i like to turn the volume way down on the visibly overelaborated – and surround myself with things that are overt, clear and easily discernible. i don’t like to leave anything to doubt – mostly because if you can’t make sense of anything i’m saying, (which happens, often), everything else about me will head directly to the point – leaving no room for doubt.
“if you wish to forget anything on the spot, make a note that this thing is to be remembered.” // e.a. poe
if you were so inclined to ponder the contents of your wardrobe – which i’ve always reckoned constitute a compilation of personal opinions, intimate breakthroughs – emotional or conceptual, and the general flux of a life. working from back to front – i’d hazard you’d be able to distinctly recall exactly how you felt at any given time in your personal history – with one cursory glance at any random piece of clothing you happen to pull out of the closet first.
you’d think that that might not be the case with my closet – considering that the majority of space is taken up by black short-ish frocks in ambiguously rectangular shapes, but that’s not exactly true.
what my wardrobe lacks in embellishment and colour, (the typical markers in the wheres and whens we wore something), is aided in part by my astute ability to remember things by sentiment and feeling, as opposed to time and place – what i chose to wear spoke volumes not only about how i was at that very moment and how i was feeling but mostly – in conjures up what version of myself i was attempting to be.
i don’t swear by many things. i delight in many swears, but that’s just for me to revel in.
things i find, can be far more easily explained away when they’re occasionally flaky, sporadically inconsistent and momentarily unpredictable. people too, can and will be all of these things at times – but when that happens it’s a bit more difficult to justify, saying – perhaps next time will be better.
so, what i do here from time to time, is offer my somewhat biased, yet wholly truthy word on what i’m currently finding to be at the tippy-top of their reliability game. truer still, is that this list can change from month to month or even from day to day – but on this day – i know the following to be true; i’m totally digging all of these… big time.
➝ source : foil frizz + control spray via r + co / my hair + 1209320% humidity + a sprit of foil = a 73% reduction in hair fog
“it was not… that she was unaware of the frayed and ragged edges of life. she would merely iron them out with a firm hand and neatly hem them down.” // p.d. james
however much i humor that side of me that requires order, that switch that necessitates everything to be just so; there will always be a wrinkle, a kink, or thatdamn pile of paper waiting on me to file it away, drumming its fingers, impatiently lingering in the wings for me. somehow my neuroses reside with a side order of procrastination. it’s a wonder i’m able to get anything done.
and though this little quirk, this fairly innocuous trait is quite at home – away from the neatest of counters, but forever hidden in the mess of every drawer; i know now, that this is just one of my things. i’ve accepted the fact that i will always hover at roughly 97% completion and then crash.
my hair will be washed, my nails will be done, and you’ll find nary a spot of lipstick on my teeth — but if you looked closer, something will be just a little bit askew. i’ll have ripped the tiniest hole in my tights, my left eyebrow will have been threaded a titch thinner than the other; no matter how many times i’ll re-read this, there will be an error, a typo, a grammatical concern i’ve overlooked.
and yet – i’ve finally understood that this is how it all needs to be – that the delight in life can be found in that 3%, in those bits of the imperfect and in the frayed. that’s probably when you’re at your most perfect – trifling flaws and all.
“if there were no schools to take the children away from home part of the time, the insane asylums would be filled with mothers.” // e.w. howe
this was the first summer when i truly understood how long a summer could be.
in this, the summer of my daughter’s entrée into her sixth year – i have caught a glimpse, an uneasy foreshadowing of what these months might feel like in say, six years from now – when she’s an in-be-tween – when ennui will have inevitably set in; a time when her parents, (even me! how could i ever seem uncool to anyone?!), will seem a pair of cosmic jokes, and camp may not appeal as much as it does now, (unless we send her far, far away, which we may very well do… foreverrr). okay, maybe not forever.
and yet – however much the days might’ve seemed impossible to fill, how we managed to pack every last one of them with whatever energy was leftover from the day before, to entertain, to amuse, to stay in pajamas and watch every single harry potter movie on sunny sundays, (blasphemy!); to on occasion, reckoning with a bored moppet who is as mighty in gaining a laugh as she is getting into mischief. the summers no longer seem as easy as they used to be.
and then, into first grade she’ll go and time will start gaining on us again. the leaves will turn, sweaters will come out, and before we know it – we’ll be contemplating what’ll keep her busy toward the summer of her seventh year.
for now, i’ll take some small solace in the fact that she hasn’t yet been bitten by the back-to-school shopping bug – and love it on her behalf. i’ll hit pause on ruminating about the passage of time, on the complexities of raising a well-adjusted kid and forgetting how quickly it all goes by – and just pick up a few things, while she still lets me.