Road Trip // The Shortest of Shorts

++  She sat in the front seat, her worn green plaid pulled over her wrists, and her legging-ed legs criss cross applesauced.  He had on his fur flap hat, just because, even though it was plenty warm in the car.  They weren't in the habit of making unnecesary stops, so they munched quietly away at a bag of baby carrots for breakfast.  And then somewhere between lunch, and the third cup of coffee, the words came naturally.  Before she could realize what they meant, somewhere between mile marker two-hundred and twelve, and the second-to-last song on the playlist, the word "love" slipped out between "I" and "you".



In an effort to tell better stories: (the shortest of shorts) little tidbits of life, characters, and make-believe. Follow them here.

Snapshot

My Family // Leftover frames from new year's.  :)

Essential // Personal

Things that say a lot about a person.  What things are essential to them? Do they have anything interesting in their bag?  Do they have a lot of things, or just money?  I don't know, I just think it's cool.  I'm definitely the person who wants all of the "essentials" in her purse, but i pare it down as much as i can and organize it a lot.

i.  the bag.  I got my bag from goodwill.  It was probably like six dollars, and it's kind of oddly colored on the side, but I like the shape and how slouchy it is.  I tied a little scarf around the strap.  It's a bit of a security blanket for me.  I feel much better if I know I have all the things i "need" with me, and can hold the cross-body strap in my hands.

ii.  ipod.  it's a little bit pathetic how essential this is to me.  I have it with me pretty much always.  I could probably do without it more often, and that would be a good thing.

iii.  notebook.  just got a new notebook.  I fill them up quickly with lists, poems, words, journal entries, information i need to remember, reminders, doodles, sketches, letters, and sometimes even gum i don't want anymore folded on the last page.

iv.  pens.  many pens. all sorts of pens.  pencils.  I took out a complete handful of other pens for the picture, I usually add to the pens in my purse over the week, and eventually take them out, and start all over. I like different pens for different things, and my handwriting changes a lot with different pens.

v.  wallet.  i have lots of member/gift/hotel key cards and sometimes cash if i don't spend it all on food.  but i keep my change in a jar on my desk for adventures.  i got this wallet from a "souvenir barn" in northern Michigan last summer.  i like the colors.

vi.  chapsticks.  lipsticks.  mascara.  sweets.  cough drops.  hair clippies.  more chapstick.  fingernail clippers.  key chain game.  rings.  i keep them all in various little pockets so i don't have to fish around for them.

vii.  camera.  always.  I carry it around with me separately slung over my shoulder, but it still counts as "in my bag".  I bring it everywhere, always taking pictures.  I really like it a lot.

Camille Cecelia, Portraits

"'People always think that happiness is a faraway thing,' thought Frances, 'something complicated and hard to get.  Yet, what little things can make it up; a place of shelter when it rains- a cup of strong hot coffee when you're blue; for a man, a cigarette for contentment; a book to read when you're alone- just to be with someone you love.  Those things make happiness.'" A Tree Grows in Brooklynn.

(I have a really pretty sister.)

In this, the one regret // Personal

sometimes I don't coordinate words and pictures very well. ;)

Covers gathered up to my chin, I would read late into the nights.  My parents would come in, and ask me why I wasn't asleep, and I would ask to "finish this one chapter pleaaase?" Hoping that the chapter I had just started was a very long one.  When I read Nancy Drew, I never got to sleep because I had to finish the entire book or risk bad dreams.  When I read Beatrix Potter, I always wanted to paint something afterwards.  But fantasy was my favorite then, I always wanted to be the princess in the stories, the one who wasn't like other princesses, but read those books, dabbled in magic, fought that dragon, cooked food, knew how to use a bow and arrow, and led the others in rebellion.  I loved my princess stories, and always tried to write my own.  I have several attempted novels of princesses (one of which was of twins, separated at birth, another desire of mine).
The library was my favorite place, and I went there as often as I could, the librarians frequently asking "are those ALL for you?", and happily burdened, I would stumble to the car with my load of books.
I read in the car, bed, during every meal, I occasionally snuck them into schoolwork, or tried to convince my mom that this particular book was for our "english class".  But I was home schooled, so we made up our own.  They didn't exactly want to discourage my reading.
I have one regret though, I no longer have those books, they're in different libraries, and I have no documentation of the books I read.  I cannot remember all that I read or what I thought of the books from when I was seven, or eleven, or twelve, and I cannot go back and read what I scribbled in them.
I still have many books to my name, but I grieve the ones I don't.  One particular book haunts me.  There was this big book of different re-tellings of princess stories.  I think there was a princess story with cherry blossoms, and other stories from all around the world.  It had twelve illustrations of princess in little ovals on the cover, and I loved it.  But I moved, and forgot what it was called and never saw it again.  I have looked for it many times, searching the sites from my old library, even calling them.  It bugs me that I can't remember it's name or find it.  I thought it was called Princess Stories from around the World, but I'm probably wrong, and I might never know.
But somewhere out there is a book that teases me with it's absence.  Maybe it wasn't even a very good book, and I wouldn't even like it now, but I still miss it sometimes, like I miss all the other books I've forgotten.
I'm not very good at remembering the words I've read, and snippets sometimes haunt me.  I wonder if they're of dreams I had once, or books I've actually read.
But words are something I love a lot, and I go back to the library, and revisit the sections I've been to a thousand times.  I love books, and stories, and reading them all.

An Exploration

A new exploration into video.  Feel free to watch on vimeo.  I don't really know what I'm doing, but it's fun.  Comments, tips, and critiques would be apprecitated.  :)

In which I turn Eighteen // Personal

"After all," Anne had said to Marilla once, "I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything splendid or wonderful or exciting happens but just those that bring simple little pleasures, following one another softly, like pearls slipping off a string."  L.M. Montgomery, that wonderful woman, Anne of Avonlea.

On Friday, I turned 18.  And in an odd way, I do feel different.  I'm not quite sure how to say it yet, but I think that I do, which is weird, because usually birthdays pass with pomp, but not many changes, other than the number you tell people. It was a simple day, I had brunch with my mom and dad, and the little boy we babysit, at Luciles, a cajun cafe.  My siblings went to their co-op for school that day, and when they came home my mommy made panini sandwiches with pesto and balsamic glazed red onion and red peppers, and havarti, and salami and turkey on yummy pugliese bread.  My mom made chocolate on chocolate macarons for my dessert.  I received all sorts of yummy foods, and loving, but we did not make any crazy "ahh you're an adult now," plans.  After dinner we just sat on the couch all cuddled up, and talked, and I got a couple phone calls from dear friends wishing me a happy birthday.  It was a really nice day, and I think that those are the best kinds.
There are so many things to look forward to, life is a very grand experience.

Happy Monday.