So this is the new year

Since my birthday is in August, the occasion has always marked the end of summer and the beginning of school. Most years, in fact, my presents have tended to be school supplies (only exacerbating the middle child syndrome). And for this reason, my birthday has also tended to be anxiety inducing. Suddenly summer is over and I haven't gotten everything done that I wanted to do and the excitement and nervousness for the new school year is creeping in more quickly than I'd like. 


This birthday, though, seems to have been just the ticket to stave off those feelings for a little bit. I got to go back to St. Louis to see my family, minus Betsy, and my friends, minus a few. I ate a ton, laughed a lot, saw my favorite places, and got to feel a little more like myself. I purchased a new camera, which I find more than a little exciting. Back in Atlanta, I was surprised by sweet presents from Andrew and celebrated with my friends there. I also made a delicious 1-2-3-4 Lemon Cake with Swiss Meringue Buttercream. It's the same cake that I made for my 23rd birthday, but I think this one was more successful. It's hard to believe that I'm 25 already, but I think it's going to be a good year. Andrew and I are seeing King Lear tonight, Betsy and I are planning an extensive vacation, I'll be teaching my own class, and I'll be finishing my own coursework. Yipes! But good. 

Do something pretty while you can

I had this big post that I’ve been writing in my head all summer and it seems that now that I’ve gotten around to posting it, I’m over it. But basically the gist is that I need to remember that I am large and contain multitudes and need to yawp once in a while. Furthermore, I don’t have to have myself figured out just yet. Seriously. Most of this is due to an extremely oppressive sense of claustrophobia here when I feel like all I can or should do in Atlanta is philosophy. And that, my friends, is just plain false. Also false is that these things can only be done in the summer. So! Going into this school year I’m determined to keep doing something pretty while I can. I have a good sense that my sewing projects will get ignored since my desk is now in use for reading and writing and not sewing. But I can still do lots of baking (even if this latest attempt at sourdough was a total flop, literally) and I’ve taken great delight recently in preparing meals for my friends. This means, too, that I’ll hold myself a little more accountable with this blog business.

For now, though, some pictures of what I’ve been up to this summer. More to come, I promise. And I mean it this time. 

fingers of prurient philosophers

I just pulled out our textbook from senior year Lit with Mrs. C. because I wanted to see about using one of the short stories for my ethics class last semester. So sweet to open it up to this:





O sweet spontaneous


O sweet spontaneous
earth how often have
the 
doting


fingers of
prurient philosophers pinched
and
poked


thee
, has the naughty thumb
of science prodded
thy


beauty, how
often have religious taken
thee upon their scraggy knees
squeezing and


buffeting thee that thou mightest conceive
gods
(but
true


to the incomparable
couch of death thy
rhythmic
lover


thou answerest


them only with


spring)


ee cummings




It's drizzling now and the crocuses are already starting to come up. Yesterday Julia and I sat outside and went for a nice, long walk. Sam and I ate outside, too, and talked about Rausch. I'll be home in two weeks. Oh, spring! I love it.

So...

This morning I woke up thinking that I already do do beautiful things. Eric and I were talking the other day, while we watched the snow fall for hours, about how we both cry at the silliest things. The things that are so beautiful that they're overwhelming and heartaching. Nietzsche, Heidegger, Gadamer, etc., talk about beauty and the artist as possessing this superabundance that never exhausts itself, a constant giving that overwhelms its vessel. The language is more than a little sexual, but I think it's true. Something that cannot be qualifed or quantified and I can't wrap my arms around and sometimes I feel like I'm going to explode into laughter and tears. It's not sentimental or nostalgic, though. It's more than that. The past few weeks have been like that.

I realized the other morning that I'm going to be twenty-five. Yikes. And that I've had my closest friends for ten years now. Yikes, in the most positive way. To spend New Year's with them was the best possible start. Everyone sitting around the kitchen table like they're supposed to. Wine and fist-pounding (the philosophical, not Jersey Shore way) and sewing and bowling. And laughter.



I was in St. Louis and Columbia earlier this week and I didn't manage to take any pictures, but I think it was for the best. When I was Eric, it was so much like (gosh!) five years ago and hanging out in his room, listening to Django and shivering. I was so much more comfortable with myself this time, though, and so much more comfortable with him. I'm happy with the person I've become. Re-membering ftw! The pork belly sliders didn't hurt, either. Rachel and I went to Bread Co. and saw a gaggle of CJ girls and though I feel like only one summer has passed, it's been so much more. More heartache, more beauty. Dinner with Michael and I speak my mind. Dinner at Brasserie filled with beautiful, seemingly unpretentious people, and Michael teases me about saying that I'm homesick for Germany. Bordeaux is apparently the best migraine treatment ever. I can't stop laughing.

I spent today doing beautiful things. It's bitterly, bitterly cold outside. I stayed in and baked and sewed and horsed around with Ken. I don't get to spend as much time with him as I'd like, so I'm glad for this past week. My mom worked from home today and kept me company in the kitchen. When I was kneading the dough, I realized how much more my hands are beginning to look like my mom's. There were more flurries and the light was so pretty. I want to buy some paperwhites as soon as I get to Decatur. Only two days to go. I made these potholders for my mom. My sewing machine is jacked up, so I couldn't use my walking foot. The potholders aren't as tidy as I'd like, but my mom loves them. The house smells wonderful and I can't get enough of the light.


This brooch was Grammy's, my dad's mom. I was tiny when she died, so I never got to know her, but I've been told I bear a lot of resemblance to her. It's the eyebrow. I love this piece and I've been wearing it more frequently. Grammy had good taste.



2010 = Joy. And beauty. And play. Big time.

I want to be doing beautiful things.

2009

It has been an awfully rough week. Lots and lots of schoolwork and big disappointments in the personal life department. Good think I can count on Gadamer and apple tarts to get me through it. And good friends! Just a week and a half to go.