Taconic Mom

This article I just read in New York Magazine, about the so-called Taconic Mom who killed 8 people including herself while driving drunk in July, is absolutely horrifying. I'm frightened for myself and everyone I know who drives daily. I'm trying not to think about it. I am curious to know, though, why I was so eager to read the article? Why are we drawn to the things that scare us most?

Rambling Folks

This seems like a good pairing:

Grateful Dead - Ramble on Rose

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My Parents Were Awesome - can't wait to submit some sweet late 1980s photos of my folks

Me and Meatball

Lately, I've been daydreaming about my future puppy, Meatball. When I get him, we will look like this together.



via Sharon Montrose

Jelly

photo via flickr

Note to Self:

Next time, when contemplating whether or not to take the alluringly short Lower Body Burn class, just remember that it is impractical to walk up stairs when your legs have turned into jello. And even though the class is only 30 minutes long, your legs will involuntarily vibrate for an additional 30 minutes after the class ends. And then you'll be couch ridden and forced to watch funny network television. Hmmm.

I Do It For Your Love

photo via flickr

As of late, I have fallen in a deep and contented love with Paul Simon. It was blissful up until I saw him on TV last night. He is weathered. I am trying to erase that memory. I sometimes think I could listen to him endlessly. Yesterday afternoon, I rode my bike around Williamsburg aimlessly with my monster headphones on serenading me with Simon songs. It was as close to heaven as a lonely afternoon could get.

Take a minute to listen to this song, I Do It For Your Love. This track caught me by surprise. At first, I wasn't so taken with it. But, I knew it had grown on me when this one melody was embedded in my memory and I longed to hear it over again. I'm talking about the part that goes: Found a rug in an old junk shop and I brought it home to you. Along the way the colors ran, the orange bled the blue. My heart aches to hear that part. This video doesn't do it justice, but I couldn't find a link to the album recording. Give it a listen.



Also, how simple and sweet is this verse:

The rooms were musty
And the pipes were old
All that winter we shared a cold
Drank all the orange juice
That we could hold
I do it for your love

Oh, and the photo above paired with this song reminded me of this: there's a chance that B and I get to go away to a lake house for one night this weekend. The thought of it makes my blood rush to my heart.

Google God

photo via flickr

Sometimes I suffer through bouts of anxiety that feel like little pangs in my heart and stomach. A thought, a phrase, or the sight of something will rub me the wrong way and a domino chain is set off in my head that flashes forward to unpleasantries in the future--things going wrong or not as I hoped. Then I get the pangs. And then I google. Sometimes, its as if google is the closest thing I have to a tangible god. When I'm deep in feeling and questions, looking for some soothing, I type my fears into my trusted google box and come up with something in the vain of answers.

Here are the results of one sporadic, anxiety-driven search:

Anxiety is a thin stream of fear trickling through the mind. If encouraged, it cuts a channel into which all other thoughts are drained. - Arthur Somers Roche

Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once. - William Shakespeare

Fear is created not by the world around us, but in the mind, by what we think is going to happen. - Elizabeth Galwain

We need not be afraid of the future, for the future will be in our own hands. - Thomas E. Dewey

We should not let our fears hold us back from pursuing our hopes. - John F. Kennedy

I agree with all you people. Good quotes. I think I feel better now. Thank you, Google God.

Letter of Apology

photo via flickr

Dear Blog,

I'm very sorry for not writing posts for you as often as you are used to. I am overwhelmed of late with what seems to be a ceaseless search for acting gigs and day jobs. I am trying to refocus my energies. When I succeed at this, I should be more fully inspired and then I will give you lots of loving little posts. Until then, a letter of apology will have to suffice. Please understand. Now I must be excused, as I am about to put myself in the hands of the least trusted Brooklyn bus line to get me to work on time.

Love,
Marina

P.S. I'm trying to cook up something for tomorrow night. Any suggestions? I have a lot of beautiful basil. Plus a pizza stone and a pasta crank that are beckoning. Or should I finally try my hand at Boeuf Bourguignon?