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Bright golden hearts in a fresh cut grass in May.

The Unbearable Lightness of Being.

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We're hiding like elephants when they're happy.

 
Peony flower / timelapse from munich timelapse on Vimeo.

"We're hiding like elephants when they're happy."  - Patricia, Breathless.

Spring time brings back many memories for me. Not only from my childhood but also because this is when I met my boy.
I often think of nights, I spent with him, walking along the city streets, holding each other tight to keep out the chill.  Of silent moonlight kisses on my doorstep as I whisper, "don't you dare break my heart." These moments of heartbreak and realization of love,  I do not think I will ever be able to express the depth my heart goes when I think of him.
I often remember the above quote when I look back on last year's spring. How bittersweet and fragile those moments felt, and although there were painful moments, the good has outweighed the bad.

Our one year anniversary is coming up this week and I couldn't be happier. I don't yet know how we will be celebrating it but I'm looking forward to it nonetheless.
I hope everyone's spring is as bright as mine. :)

Eyes filled up with blue.

How lovely it is to be home. Arriving yesterday in the late afternoon, my boyfriend and I were greeted with a nice bowl of homemade etouffee; one of my favorite Cajun dishes, it was the perfect welcome home dinner.
Being home always allows for a new perspective. My visits are becoming more and more sparse and the place is beginning to feel alien and unfamiliar. This alarms me but at the same time I can always find clarity and familiarity.

It is very hard for me to put this into words but I love the history and age of Mississippi. Everything is dilapidated and worn out, with this incredible weight balancing on its shoulders. Life is precious but always beautiful and vivid. I  appreciate this frailty and see it more now that I no longer spend my time here.  While I was driving to my grandmother's house today I was struck with how beautiful the landscape was- the dreary marshland and old pine trees. I brought my camera, I hope I can express these feeling I have for this place clearly. 

I love the HBO series True Blood, I wish I could watch it more but I don't have a television. Despite the fact that the southern accents are at times over done and a little silly (as a self respecting southern I have to point that out, sorry) I think the show is awesome and very well done. I especially love the introduction of the show. The imagery instantly reminds me of home and the song by Jace Everett is wonderfully emotive. Here y'all go:

As if the fullness of the soul did not sometimes overflow into the emptiest of metaphors. No one can ever express the exact measure of his needs, or conceptions, or sorrows. Language is like a cracked kettle on which we beat out a tune for a dancing bear when we long to make music to melt the stars.

-  Madame Bovary, Gustave Flaubert.

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I'm the Christmas present. So cute. :)

flash.

HYD. Hide Your Daughters. 

My boys the silly one in orange. :)

The weather is finally agreeing with my sensibility, it is entirely pleasant and invigorating. Although, it's a shame the sun decided to come out just as I'm heading indoors to finish my finals. I hope this is not some cruel trick mother nature is playing on us. Every time I take a moment to rest I look out the windows longingly. I wish I could print my thesis outside, instead of theses stuffy labs.

I'm dreaming of the time I will be done with my work and I can have picnic in the park with my boy! :)

Cair Paravel.

We sailed away on a winter's day,

with fate as malleable as clay.

what it is you do to keep your eyes so shiny

My father has always been a distant shadow in my past; a bruise on my skin that will never heal. I am told we met when I was two, a coincidence, we were at the same McDonald's. I can only imagine how awkward the scene must have been, like a funeral for a small pet, something done only for a child's benefit. I of course, have no real recollection of this moment, I wish I did. 

He has always been a distant figure in my life. Someone I didn't understand. I would see him every two years or so, he would stop in around November or December, as my birthday and Christmas fall in those months. He would stay for an unbearable hour, give me a sterile gift, and leave. I hated those visits. I feared their awkward nature, the show, and the display of how I'd grown. I cannot express how afraid of him I was, how much I hated his artificial affection. It would take almost fourteen years for him to make enough of an effort to try and get to know me. 

How is a girl supposed to handle this kind of isolation, no five-year-old should ever have to feel unworthy of their father's love. It's a scar I will always have, something so ingrained in who I am I fear it will always harm me, and it has. When I was thirteen it dawned on me that I had another family. How strange it was to wake one morning and think that I had grandparents I had never met; that I had cousins, and aunts, and uncles.  I remember watering the plants one afternoon with my mother, and working up the courage to ask her if my father had any living relative. She only answered that she thought he had a sister somewhere. How can I express the shock I felt, the betrayal.

I have met these relatives, over the years since, and they feel like strangers. I fear visiting them as much as I fear seeing my father. They are good people but they are not my family, and that hurts just as much as the abandonment. I am told I favor my father's mother although, I have never met her and have only seen a few photos. Nevertheless, this is what was told to me. I often imagine what it would be like if we ever met, which could never happen as she died about six months before I was born. I imagine a face like mine, old with age, and a kind smile and warm arms.

Male figures in my life have always been lacking, with the exception of my grandfather, there has never been stability. My step-father is another bruise on my skin and his is just as heart wrenching. He married my mother when I was very young, and for a time I actually called him 'daddy', this was before I realized how untrue it was. But he was there for me and I received a stable and protective love. He is the father of my little sister and he treated us equally. It was only when my age reached the decade mark that things began to change. He became violent, and angered. He was someone, who overnight, we came to fear and hate. I was the one who received most of the retribution. I was the easiest target, the eldest daughter of another man, a rebellious child who all to often stood up and spoke her mind. I will not go as far to say the his abuse was ever physical but there were episodes. We later found that he was mentally unstable, due to a chemical imbalance I still cannot understand. It is only through daily, rigorous, medication that our relationship has improved at all.

I want so much to be accepted, to be loved by these men, and I hate that I want that. I was once told by my step-mother that I would probably never be able to have a stable relationship with a man until I reconciled with my father. I have proved her wrong. But this was also the woman who said she could see me having an affair with an older professor type. These things were told cruelly to my face, and it hurt to think this was how others viewed me.

I cannot deny that I shield my emotions. But there has been a silver lining to my heartache. I can only hope that his love will allow me to embody the girl I know I can be. I hope that it is true enough to hold on to me when I let these immobilizing fears wash over me. I think it is.

If my life experience has taught me anything, it is to rely only on myself. It is incredibly painful to give that up, but I know I will never be happy until I take that jump. I mustn't be afraid of the fall. Because even though it is dark, I feel his warm hand in mine and this I think will always put a smile on my face.

70 Million by Hold your horses.

70 Million by Hold Your Horses ! from L'Ogre on Vimeo.

;)