I'm leaving you. It's going to be a long time before I pick up this/another blog again, for a few reasons:
a. I don't have a computer at home.
b. I do not have the patience/focus for writing/researching other blogs/websites for a good amount of my day.
c. I would rather put together a tumblog of pictures and things for rapid-fire blogging instead of spending time on blogspot...oh, wait. I did make a tumblog!
This is mostly for me. I don't expect (whoever follows this blog) to diligently check this tumblr page, however, if you find my style inspiring, this is place to go for pictures and links, which is pretty much all I did with "parisienish"!
So anyways. Thank you for tuning in for the past 3 years. I've had a blast, and I look forward to future projects.
my boyfriend thinks i mess with my dog too much! *see below* this one's for you, O..... living proof that a mom inevitably messes with her children---
check out the rest of this baby picture-adventure, here. it's adorable and hilarious to think that a mom finds her napping baby so amusing.
* this is a game that Henry and i like to play called "COME GET IN THE SHOWER!" where i chase him around, pretending like i'm going to grab him and stick him in the tub. i love love love how he puts his ears back and sticks that one leg out. laugh. out. loud. p.s. he does love it, i am not cruel.
i'm not a wordy blogger but i've been thinking a lot about inspiration.
it's a dreamy, sometimes intimidating word. lately inspiration doesn't come easy, though i refuse to simply lay down and get caught up in the everyday humdrum;
rise coffee walk the dog rinse work walk the dog Dionysian pleasure sleep
do you ever find yourself saying:
when does it get easier?
how can i make this work?
i need a vacation
thank God it's Friday
when you feel deflated, broke, disheartened, listless, squeezed and stretched in every direction
how can you take those feelings and use them for inspiration? it comes in many forms; inspiration is not reserved for artistic pleasure.
humans are inspired when:
they hit a fast grounder past the shortstop
they scream into a pillow
they have a window seat that looks onto street
they make a really good batch of cookies
they are able to touch a flower they grew
they receive a great kiss
i have a continually shifting list of things that i love most. you should make a list too. i think you'll be surprised with what happens as you write.
here's mine:
birds that chirp at night
cold beer after work
antique stores / flea markets / yard sales
Pilot precise V7 rolling ball pen, black
old books
blank journals
blogs
irises*
reading spots
goat cheese
driving at night, aimlessly, listening to music**
IKEA
Samurai Jack
long showers
alpine meadows
Henry howling at the same two songs***
and finally, boogyin'
*also russian sage, rosemary, astillbe and any kind of groundcover ** i do this a lot *** Fleet Foxes - He Doesn't Know Why and The Strange Boys - Heard You Want To Beat Me Up
at my job they're currently showcasing resident artwork. amongst a wealthy history of artists that have come and gone there is one woman in particular, a retired history teacher, who showcased some of her pieces.
an etching of a lion, a red barn hanging over a choppy river, a watercolor of a chickadee; in passing i told her that i loved the barn painting. she told me that she doesn't particularly like her own artwork but she does it just to do it.
art is very profound in that sense.
you don't have to be anybody or anything
you do art for you and if you're lucky you do it for some money.
