Alison Armstrong

A friend of mine turned me on to this artist a few days ago.  I absolutely love her.  When he said it was "kind of 50's pop art," I was skeptical.  I feel like the genre is really hit or miss with me; but  I was blown away when I visited her website.  Definitely a hit.  When you go to her site, make sure you check out her process.  At first glance she looks like to be a graphic designer but there's so much more to it than that.

These pictures don't do her justice; the colors on the website are stunning.  "City" is my favorite.  Which ones do you like?  One lucky commenter gets one for free.
Just kidding.  I can't even afford the prints, but I would  like to know which ones strike your fancy.

If it wasn't $800, it'd be perfect for a laundry room.

This needs to be in my house immediately.

The colors!  The wings!  I might cry.

Looking in to the Past

Stumbled upon this little gem a few days ago.

"25 photos that compare past snapshots of buildings, locations, structures, and people with the present day scene. Below are some of our favorites picked out from the hundreds of photos in the Looking Into the Past Flickr group by Jason Powell."


Here are some of my favorites:

All for the Love of Harry

{i imagine this is what my mind looks like.  found here}

For the past three days I've been noticing a remarkable amount of tweed jackets, dark rimmed glasses and laptop bags being toted around near our convention center downtown.  I didn't think much of it other than to steal some second glances at the dashing young men in their corduroy pants.

Turns out they're all hear for the AWP Conference- The Association of Writers and Writing Programs.  I found out today- the last day of the conference.  Why didn't I know about this?  Why wasn't there some heads up from one of my creative writing professors.  I'd like to think that's what they're here for but perhaps I'm mistaken- perhaps my tuition dollars should instead go to them ignoring my emails and not giving me back my portfolios; because that's been my experience thus far.

I am beyond frustrated right now.  The conference is in a different region of the US every year; it will never be this accessible again.  I was looking at the event list and had to click away before I really started to get upset.  Instead of listening how to make the most of a creative writing degree, market myself efficiently, and workshop pieces relating to the "fantastic" I'm sitting in a cafe about a block away from the lucky bastards that do.  Currently, I'm taking notes on how to read a topographical map.  The very thought is so infuriating.  I am stressed out, not writing, and completely bogged down by assignments and papers that will never ever get me to where I want to be in life.

It's enough to make me drop out of school again.  But my parents said if I graduate they'll take me to Harry Potter World.  So... obviously I'm staying.



PS- Literally the moment I put the last period on this post this the power went.  Meaning I had no access to the internet and no way to continue to do my bloody homework.  The only thing left for me to do- write write write.  Thanks universe!

The Prodigal Creative

I've been thinking a lot about fear lately.  Why am I so afraid to go after the things I want?  I want to write- I want to be a writer.  I want to do journal therapy too, I really do, but it almost become a purposeful distraction for me- it's okay if I never write anything of consequence, I'll just teach people to do it instead.  In all honesty, about 90% of my day is spent fighting off something strong and hungry in my belly screaming for me to write.

A person has come into my life recently that is forcing my brain to reconnect with its former creative self- where symbols and metaphors are okay to use in the course of a conversation.  It's uncomfortable, I won't lie.  I feel silly and cheesy and not myself most of the time.  We're pen pals essentially and I'm not used to turning a chat about my day into something poetic- be he does and it's authentic and beautiful.  I've started to mimic his lead- using my own words and style.  I've missed these words and the order in which I place them.  My rhetoric, my panache.  This person is pulling it out of me again and I'm just now realizing that perhaps his entrance into my life isn't a random coincidence- I'm thinking it is very much intentional.  My brain is being forced to engage in ways that it hasn't in a very long time.  It's not about "hey how are you, where did you grow up."  It's about "what did you see, where did you go, who and what did you connect with that made you feel , if only for a moment, alive.  Not in a breathe in breathe out sort of way- in a way that makes you truly aware of your existence in that moment."

This is what he told me "So my new friend Sarah (which by the way is a lovely name) I want to stress on the importance of writing. Submit your writing to all the places you can, knock on all the doors until your knuckles are bloody, and write until your notebooks are so colorful that when people read them their jaws drop wide with amazement. " I think I need more colored pens.


Last night, as I wrote to him, I remembered what I love so much about writing- the challenge of finding a way to say something that's been said a million times and understood by everyone- in a way no one has ever said it before.  That made me feel something- in that completely aware of my fingers and heartbeat sort of way.


I've been in a slump lately and I couldn't figure out why- the weather, school, money woes, etc etc.  I tried getting more vitamin D and completely ignored my school work.  Nothing was working.  Until last night when I finally tapped that right side of brain that was gathering dust.  Today I'm feeling more inspired   That familiar catch in my chest when Hoppipola comes on my iPod and I feel like I could grasp the whole world with the tip of my pen and still have room and love enough to lie in the grass and let the little bugs explore my skin.  


I'm afraid I'm not making much sense now.  And the only way I can explain it is that I feel alive again- connected and in tune with my mind.  At least a little bit.  And at least more than yesterday.  And certainly more than the day before.  I feel the electric buzz of creation in my brain.  And all it took was returning to the thing I love.

Finally

Finally this project I've been hinting at has come to fruition!

Shake the Dust is a blog my two dear friends and I have started to make this year mean more than they have in the past.  I got the idea when I realized how many people would raise their glasses to the new year in hopes of something better.  So instead of hoping for the best this year, I decided to do something about it and make a list.  To really take the time to do the things I've wanted to delve into the parts of my life that have been gathering dust for quite some time.  That's where the name comes from.  I'm shaking the dust off my life and seeking out new adventures.

Our lists may not be extravagant but they're intentional.  The goal of the blog is to experience, grow, and learn lessons to be shared with the rest of the world.  I hope you'll join us!

Shake the Dust.

Spring On the Brain

These go well with the bit I posted last week about the book planters.  *Sigh* I miss green things.  Everything is white and gray and cold.  The Spring equinox is in about a month!  My shoulders would like to greet the world again.

You can purchase these fantastic little bookmarks here.

Anaïs Nin

I've never read Anaïs Nin but I've heard so much about her; the crazy, the beautiful and the amazing spirit. I've been considering lately getting into some of her journals. I'm just not sure where to start. Chronologically? Or should I dive right into the thick of it and start with Incest where she describes in graphic detail her relationship with her father. Yikes.

She's so fascinating to me. Her life, although broken and messy, is one of experience and love, and I think that's all we can really ask for sometimes. She was well traveled, educated, and romanced with some of the most fabulous writers of the time. Not to mention she's absolutely gorgeous. I've been reading some of her quotes and her writing is absolutely beautiful. There's no way I can avoid this any longer. I'm off to the library.

A leaf fluttered in through the window this morning, as if supported by the rays of the sun, a bird settled on the fire escape, joy in the task of coffee, joy accompanied me as I walked.

And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom

Do not seek the because - in love there is no because, no reason, no explanation, no solutions.

Each friend represents a world in us, a world not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born. 

I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength, who makes enormous demands on me, who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naive or innocent, who has the courage to treat me like a woman. 

If you do not breathe through writing, if you do not cry out in writing, or sing in writing, then don't write, because our culture has no use for it.

Life is truly known only to those who suffer, lose, endure adversity and stumble from defeat to defeat.

Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish it's source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.

People living deeply have no fear of death.

There are many ways to be free. One of them is to transcend reality by imagination, as I try to do. 

Throw your dreams into space like a kite, and you do not know what it will bring back, a new life, a new friend, a new love, a new country. 

Solace My Game, Solace My Game

{found here}

It's been a lovely and reflective Ash Wednesday.  My first actually.  Learned a lot and let go of even more.  I feel light tonight; in every sense of that word.

There's a lot of religious traditions I don't like.  But Ash Wednesday, I like.  It's about admitting your imperfections, your brokenness, and finding hope against all odds.

For Lent I will be drinking only water and donating the money I save to a group that builds wells in Uganda.  If you want to join, click here.

And this song has been on repeat for at least an hour.  It's got me all a quiver and electric.

The Fresh Air Revives Me, Fairfax

Spring is coming soon and this is exactly what I plan on doing with it.  Now off to a used bookstore to make these suckers myself.

I will most likely get frustrated and end buying some.  If that sounds like you as well, you can order them here somehow, but it's in a different language.  Good luck!

I Can't Believe I'm Doing This

Ok, so I know I've been plugging an upcoming project and that's still in the works.  It involves three creative girls who have a hard time agreeing on certain aspects of a blog, haha.  But it's getting there!

BUT, to satiate you deep desire for new and hilarious blogs, my dear friend Genevieve and I have started Less Than Three.  We've both signed up for three months of Match.com's services.  Oh my, there's a lot to be said for that site.  So many crazies in one place.  Lots of sweet people too.  We're not doing this to make fun of or intentionally lead anyone on.  Basically, as long as someone isn't obviously a "no" or sociopath, we're going to go out with them (at least I am, Genevieve might flake and only stick to the handsome ones).

It'll be eye opening, it'll be fun and it'll be a kick in the pants to read about.  Hope you'll join us!