NYC, Baltimore, Raleigh (Spring 2009)

Weathered keys from the flea market, my own personal heaven.

Part of the Valentine’s care package my mom sent me. I received these gems:
– This 1992 Limited towel-shrug-sweater
– 3 pairs of earrings on a card meant to hold 6 pairs (from the Icing, which is Chicago’s version of Claire’s, which also means my mom got them at least 10 years ago and picked away at them until she was down to the unwanted 3).
– Loose glitter
– Valentines day cookies (sugar cookies that actually tasted like fortune cookies, bad sign) nestled in a pile of Christmas m&ms
– Pink, satin shoes. No, not slippers.
– A magnet picture of myself.

March snowday: Alex & Renee’s front porch taken from ours.

My first conference in New York!

& though I took essentially no pictures of nights out seeing old and recently moved friends, I did have one botched photobooth picture, which should have had 4 people in each frame but turned into Josh’s reel instead.

The Royal Oak & Bushwick Country Club in Brooklynn for Valentine’s Day.

This was supposed to have Anne & Erik in it, somewhere.

Spring sun days.


My bedroom is a sun porch.

Second conference: Toxicological Sciences in Baltimore.
Inner Harbor on St. Patrick’s Day.

Stingrays kind of make me nervous with their blanket body & roving eye domes.

Recovering after a long night in Baltimore National Aquarium’s shark tank.

I get why Lisa Frank loves dolphins.

Mt. Vernon, the first Washington Monument, and the Helmand: President Karzai’s brother’s restaurant with fancy Afghani food, kind of a derivative of Lebanese food but with more okra, spinach and potatoes.

Horse pastures on the outskirts of Raleigh. A perfect Saturday bike ride.

Woke up to a tree blooming with birds.

Anne & Kayla.

Sundays babysitting Nee’s niece, Kayla. Taking a stroll(er) to Locopops.

Hannah & Marge in town: ladies’ night!

No one would dance by us though, a very bad sign.

I love this.

Earlier this spring, I found mold spores blooming in my room, all around the wall blocked by the perimeter of my bed and growing behind my bookcase, unseen to the naked eye. There have been leaks in my bedroom ceiling and my landlord has made some attempt to stop the leaks, but the moisture has been humming away in the crevices of my living space. Since hiring a building inspector on the sly and bleaching away the mold, my anxiety has subsided, but still, it’s been an especially nerve-wracking spring.

I left a small plant with a friend of mine in Ireland, which I’d forgotten, but now he has a flowering tree. I never think about people I introduce starting their own relationships, journals left absentmindedly about, marginal notes I’ve made in lent books, or material gifts. It’s a great comfort to know that understated contributions can take on a life beyond me, that I have probably left impressions I’m not conscious of, and maybe others can draw from traces of things I’ve started. The fact I’m part of a pervasive unknowing is a pleasant surprise, as small as a flowering plant might be.

In the Long Haul, Myles Horton talks about momentum and being part of a movement from the inside rather than ascribing to a growing momentum, which has made me think about how this applies to the ways I operate. It does feel like the inertia I have comes from my own, perishing urgency to complete things, but there aren’t long term intentions or underpinnings to build from. I can take some pride in my independence, but I miss community work and don’t feel like I questioned my choices when I was involved in projects much larger than personal development.


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