"...that while we breathe, we hope..."

last night i experienced what i think might be the single most defining and monumental social and political event in recent history, most certainly that of my young life. the election of barack obama to the presidency of the united states marks a beautiful point in our nation's short, but turbulent history. it is time. time for us, as a nation, to catch up with the rest of the civilized world and see past race, sex, wealth, sexual orientation, disability, and politics, and to embrace one another as friends and as equals. we did that yesterday. as a whole- as a single, free, hopeful nation, we came together. it was beautiful.

today, it's more beautiful. tomorrow, more beautiful than today.

there is clarity and anticipation and desire within me. i feel it radiating from my core and it's burst out from my heart and stomach and that place that hurts when you're in love- that magical place that's neither organ nor thought. this feels better than love and here's why:

for the first time i see absolute joy in the faces of my friends. unbridled, self-less, wholesome, consuming, completely innocent and pure, joy. it's so unselfish. i cannot describe what happened last night, but i know something changed in the fabric of our lives. i'm happy for everyone, even people who are saddened today, because we, the people, were the catalyst for change and barack obama- a single, solitary man- moved and guided us towards that.

i wore a sticker yesterday that said, "my vote counted!"- i truely feel that it did. knowing that i've been apart of this will surely stay with me forever. as i sat last night in the theater at real art ways, surrounded by old friends and new ones, i listened to words of hope from the man that led us to make history. i cried tears of honesty, dedication, and months of finger-crossing. we're making a difference in this world and it feels so good.

what a great day to be an american. what a great life we're all sharing. cheers to obama and here's to our future.


liberty leading the people, delacroix

on the reality of vanity or not seeing.

i went to another wedding last saturday. anna (the bride) was glowing, kathryn and all the bridesmaids were beautiful. each of the gents, including tyler (the groom) were handsome as ever. it was a gorgeous fall day- the perfect day for my two outdoorsy, woodsy friends to unite. it was windy and cool but the sun was bright and cut the chill (so did the champagne). the whole day was fabulous and memorable and i am so very blessed to have shared in my good friends' happiness.

kathryn posted all of the pictures that we took while getting ready and during the ceremony in her facebook albums. mostly i was the one taking the pictures so i didn't make too much of an appearance. i did, however, find myself tagged in a couple that anna's sister took of us doing shots of whiskey before the ceremony. here's the deal with those pictures:

i've gotten fat.

no no- i know you folks- the one or two that read this little blog of mine. i know you're rolling your eyes and saying, "oh my god, lydia, you are NOT fat." hear me right now, right this second. i'm not listening to you. i can't- and here's why: i don't recognize the girl in those pictures. it looks like someone swallowed me. when i got dressed that morning- in my favorite dress, mind you- i did not see that person looking back at me in the mirror. i saw me and i looked pretty and happy. pictures are the only glimpse at reality, i guess. in those snapshots i saw kathryn and anna and heather and allie looking great- just as they look when they're standing next to me. i don't know when i stopped seeing myself or when that image became distorted.

i know no one will agree with me on this but that's not really my concern. if you're not happy with what you see then what does it matter what anyone else says? clearly there are limits to that, points when it gets obsurd. i'm not at that point but i am at a place when i feel it's finally necessary to do something- to fix myself up a bit so that the gal i see in the mirror is the same gal you see and the same gal in those photos. i don't want to be the chubby friend.

i hate being so vain. i can't help it this time. maybe it's helpful sometimes to become absorbed in oneself. to cleanse, clear, revamp under the scrutiny of the never satisfied eye.

Triptych of Earthly Vanity and Divine Salvation, Hans Memling (c.1485)

Breakfast in Bed, Marie Cassatt

"Children rest in love...but then they are still pure
in their illusion that it is possible to belong to someone;
and when they say 'mine', they make no claim to ownership;
they hug and let go, and when they do hold on, it is God
with whom they are still enmeshed, who draws the others
to himself through their innocently open arms."

dance upon the wind

thursday, august 28th was really just a crazy, exhausting day. i have those from time to time, as everyone does- the kind of days that leave you haggard and on the brink of tears for no reason other that you're just so unbelievable drained.

my schedule was packed- work, home, school, work, home, school, bed. that's how my planner read- the planner that will keep my life in order for the next 18 months- those unimaginable, hectic, and fruitful last 18 months of my degree. wednesday night porch sitting and wine drinking didn't lend itself to a restful sleep, nor did sharing my bed with the lovely melissa sue, who stayed over after a surprise visit from maine- a little gift of love from a truely wonderful friend. in any case, i wasn't in tip-top shape once 7am rolled around- it was destined to be a long, long day.

i left my cell phone at home when i went to work- pretty typical of me, but i'd been waiting for a call from the hartford golf club for the last couple days so i was a little miffed at myself. at around noon i called my vm to check messages and i had one- from my mother. my mother... with that voice... that voice that says, "you're the only one of my children that does things for me and i need you right now." she was at the hospital and needed a ride home. she'd fallen, another mysterious and undiagnosable "black-out". i hate that i get angry at her for this and that sometimes i'm so selfish and that i immediately thought, "WHY TODAY?!" most people would think i'm just horrible for not dropping everything and running to her. maybe i am... but i guess a handful of friends know what it's like for me to have my mother as a mother and thus, understand why i just can't do that. i did though, sort of, in the best way i know how. i'm a good daughter but honestly... why then, on that day, with that schedule, with no time?

my entire body was flooded, i was tired and stressed and upset and scared and hot and cold and dry and anxious. i left work with that suitcase chained to my wrist. it's never a great idea to drive with a head heavy with thought. focusing on highway navigation while trying to make sense of your life isn't adviseable, and i should know (see auto accident, fall 2006 for reference). i was really drowing in it though and no real solution, aside from just getting though it was coming to mind. tumble. jumble. mess.

stop.

picture this: a highway, a tunnel, a car. a girl in thought, relatively distressed, driving. out of the corner of her eye she sees something: a dragonfly. he (she decides) is flying with her- outside the car, riding the freeway current, 6 or so inches from the left side of her windshield.

a distraction- a friend, perhaps.

that little dragonfly hung around for as long as he could and i smiled and sighed one of those big sighs that just empties everything. the sunroof was open and all the gunky mish-mash flew out into the sky. i went to class and then set out for the hospital. i missed my turn (that place is a disaster) and had to take an extra trip around the block. at the intersection of maple avenue and jefferson street i spotted the dragonfly again. he zipped past the front of the car and did a little dragonfly dance while i waited for the light to change. we parted ways there. i picked up my mom. she was ok, just a pretty gnarly shiner from where she hit her eye on the door. mom was ok and i was ok.

everything is ok.



dragonfly with red wings, Miro.

Everything is blooming most recklessly; if it were voices instead of colors, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night.

~Rainer Maria Rilke


Night, LEONID AFREMOV, glycee print on canvas.

filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light...

i walk without flinching through the burning cathedral of the summer. my bank of wild grass is majestic and full of music. it is a fire that solitude presses against my lips.
~violette leduc, mad in pursuit

yesterday i mourned the last day of my first summer vacation in what feels like eternity- it is really closer to 6 years. i felt the weight of the day- sadness mixed with uncertainty- pressing upon my insides like that feeling you get when you know you and your love are through. anticipation is the criminal: he starts cutting the threads one by one as soon as the sticky nights turn to chill and you curl the blanket into fists around your ears for the first time. it's been like that for over a week now, with little flirts of july stuck in for good measure- just to churn up nostalgia for the heck of it.

nostalgia is anticipation's sidekick. kundera (kindred, he and i) speaks of nostalgia in the most relateable way- "you can suffer nostalgia in the presence of the beloved if you glimpse a future where the beloved is no more." homesickness. a wistful desire to return. that is where my heart lies, like dirty dishes on the table after the most indulgent meal. dessert is a flickering candle of hazy doubt i'm too full to nibble upon.

i'm doubtful of this new path i'm on. the big, huge, canyon-sized leap i've take towards "my future" is so scary that i feel lost. there are too many forks in the road now, so many what ifs that i'm on the edge of my seat but shielding my eyes at the same time. imagine one of those "choose your own adventure" books- only for adults- where real consequence or exhilaration is just one decision, one turn of the page away. how arresting! and truely, how unlike me. i play it safe, i'm responsible, i'm realistic- rational even.

but so what? who cares? i've made it this far and i realized i was miserable playing by those rules. didn't i say that anticipation and nostalgia are partners in crime? they are, despite their conflicts. they seem in opposition but that's their game: one dragging you backward while the other tears forward. they're corporal punishment, those two: we're always strung up between their horses.

i want to remember this summer always as one that set me free. all the bad, the broken, the lost burnt in a wildfire that i didn't set aflame but from whose ash...

“They say love is blind...and marriage is an institution. Well, I'm not ready for an institution for the blind just yet.” -Mae West

there's nothing particularly poetic or interesting about what i have to say today. i just felt like updating, and what a better way to update than to rant- or at least vent a little penned up steam.

my best gal friend from high school is getting married on saturday. many of you know this, as i've been wrapped up in the planning for months now and it has made an obvious mark on my soul. i'm happy to see her so happy, you know, despite being a little jealous and a lot terrified. yes, absolutely, completely terrified. no one seems to understand why all of a sudden that is the emotion i'm having. shit, i don't really understand it either. plenty of friends are married now- it's all the rage, who else is getting on board? so why this time am i filled with the urge to skip out on the whole thing- toss my lovely, stem green, silk tricotine dress and flawless pink silk stilettos into a suitcase and take them away to someplace far more inviting and far less spectacular? i really don't know. i don't know a lot of the reasons why i've been feeling so removed and distant from the happiness surrounding her, or any of my newly married friends for that matter.

part of me can't get over how young we still are, and how i've always pictured these wonderfully grand lives for us all. i guess i really didn't look at everyone's collective future realistically. i mean seriously, how could i have ever expected that every girl i knew from high school through college would turn out to be a fabulously successful woman doing brilliant things in extraordinary places? it's one thing to hope that for yourself- and i do- perhaps to a fault sometimes. but to think that everyone would have the same goals and priorities was particularly naive of me. yes, quite naive.

i'm not saying that marriage at our age is a curse or a submission to the ordinary. please, don't misinterpret. what i am saying is that i can't imagine, at this point in my life, being ready to combine, compromise, and content myself with another person- forever. i want more time to be selfish and discover everything awful and wonderful about myself- by myself- and i think we all deserve that. it feels like everyone has decided not to know themselves anymore or to push for something outside of what they know. like comfort led the the next step- staying comfortable. i can't understand.

i'm like a lost little puppy in tornado of taffeta.

listen slowly

this morning i listened slowly.
i listened and i felt what i heard
i heard what i felt when i listened
so slowly that time stood still.

i found that every day is
the start of something beautiful.

"when the heart speaks, the mind finds it indecent to object." - milan kundera

i haven't written in a while. i've been full- preoccupied.

laying in bed the other night i found myself thinking: this has become a common occurrence. laying there, still clothed- awake. darkness and quiet, or as quiet as it gets on that busy urban line. i don't know if it's sadness in those moments that keeps me listening to my breath. is it sadness or loneliness or knowing that the air is settling into the cracks of my empty three rooms?

cats move without noise, like ghosts passing through walls, like wind carrying souls. alone with my self-

self, hello.

- his silence is audible. a pebble perhaps? stuck in the sweet, pink pads, click-clacking on hardwood. (there's a joke in there, only the kindred know.) i wish he knew i was listening, that my attention was his, only. for a moment it was, but then: breath. traffic. darkness.

it's almost tactile. no, not almost- is. i can feel everything: the softness of linens far past-due for washing, the prick of feathers pushing toward fresh air; comfort versus restraint. yes. on the outside there is both comfort and restraint, their game of hide and seek. it's everywhere these days: that frayed thread, that unlaced shoe, that matted mess of twine.


marc chagall

dew

night settles down.
onto and into the grass,
day's rinse and runoff rests.
hours of sorrow and fancy
cooled, reconciled, afresh.

lists

i am a maker of lists.

they are not "to do" lists so much as items of importance or significance that i happen to arrange in a vertical manner. i have a terrible time accomplishing things once those things are introduced in list form. therefore, the "to do" list generally turns out to be a "to don't" and i am often left with feelings of shame and disappointment. instead of listing tasks that need accomplishing, i write down things that make me happy or that i find interesting or unusual. i keep the very best lists in two places: those created by way of computer reside in a folder on my desktop which is aptly named "lists" and others which are written on receipts, napkins, post-it notes (i hate post-it notes), and other scraps of paper are stored in an old blue and white tin that used to house my great grandmother's little tools and chisels. she carved and whittled doll house furniture with those little tools which i wish were still around for me to appreciate. time taketh away...

anyway, a list for today.

squint
crackle
exhale
swirl
glint
callus
divine
pinch
bust
fleck
scoot
cricket
relish

on seasons, getting older, and new acquisitions

spring, like autumn, is liminal. it is neither warm nor cool, and yet sometimes both. betwixt and between: like yoruba adolescents engaged in initiation rites- they are neither child nor adult, neither alive nor dead. the spring is an awakening and the autumn a slow death. i have never understood those who say, "i love the fall!" as i cannot find the same emotion to describe the falling away of light and life. summer and winter are definite- concrete in their opposition. there are those whom we so affectionately call "snow bunnies", and yet we all gravitate toward heat like moths to a flame- basking in the snug cocoon of blankets, fire, and sunlight. air conditioning (that devil's creation) is a curse designed to freeze away the blessing of summer: hot, wet, sexy heat. i long for july and august afternoons- lazing about with sticky thighs and flushed cheeks, sweaty knees and dirty toes.

i miss the summer whenever it's not summer. i hate fall almost as much as i hate winter because it is a constant premonition of fearful, dreadful events: snow. i never thought much of spring, except that spring always comes before summer and that, of course, makes me happy. this spring i have become acutely aware of what the season is all about: pollination. i have never experienced allergies of any sort, aside from a mild reaction to our furry feline friends (which i have ignored for my entire life). for the last week i've been an ear/nose/throat doctor's dream- a congested, sniffley, sneezy, mess. friends have offered kind advice on medicines and homeopathic remedies but not much has worked to alleviate the symptoms. i'd like to go back to when i thought people were whiney babies for complaining about their allergies. i don't like feeling their pain. but that's what happens when you get older. and no, i'm not saying i'm old by any stretch- just getting older. it happens and things change, i just didn't realize they'd change so fast. so it goes, i guess.

so that leads me here. inspired by the recent onset of seasonal nasal allergies, here is a list of my most recent acquisitions:

an acute dislike for cucumbers and/or anything cucumber scented.
constant neck pain- on the left side only.
the complete inability to wake up earlier than 7:30am or later than 9:00am.
back fat (eww, but seriously...)
financial responsibility!
debt (seems you can't manage one without the other).
an indescribable fear of driving on 84 west at night and/or during traffic.
gray hair. ok, more gray hair.
bad hearing and even worse vision.
sun spots (we'll call 'em freckles cuz' that sounds cuter).
a lust for older, balding men.
and finally, more understanding, patience, and respect-
for myself.

another new blog

hi friends! welcome to another new blog written by someone you know, or hope to know more thoroughly.

i've been putting this off for quite some time, despite encouragement from influential people like andrea henchey, who, if you don't know, is an amazing writer to whom i cannot be compared. i was reading linda mack's blog this morning and it always makes me smile- she really writes the way she talks and it tickles me to hear her adorable voice narrating in my head as i read. everyone has a blog on blogger and it has occurred to me many times that i should jump aboard but i'm always too... distracted/ambivalent/(insert adjective here) to do anything about it. today the "create blog" link at the top of the page was screaming at me so i said to myself, "lydia dear, get it over with. it could be a good thing." so here i am, with a blog of my own.

"what to do with it?" i ask. well, self... how about you lay some ground rules- for the readers, mostly, since it's my blog and i can do whatever i want (including breaking "ground rules").

first, i never capitalize anything unless it's necessary for emphasis. it's not an e.e. cummings rip off, i just... do it. don't question me on this, as i have no good explanation outside of i prefer the look of lower to upper case. i'm a type geek, it's my prerogative and i'm sticking to my guns.

secondly, you may be asking yourself why i chose to entitle this blog "ellipsis ampersand asterisk". well again, i'm a type geek and i really just love that simple punctuation marks have such interesting and mellifluous names! plus, i'm imparting a little wisdom on people who don't know the actual names of either "..." or "&" or "*". one more thing- ellipses contain just three periods...

i digress.

this is a place to find rantings, ravings, loves, hates, passions, accounts, events, thoughts, dreams, and anything else my little heart pleases to post. i hope you'll make a point to stop by now and again.

ex's and oh's!

lydia.