tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50509713859151097332024-03-05T16:45:03.396-07:00SwedeheartAmandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808888025816733460noreply@blogger.comBlogger30125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050971385915109733.post-86540336453440509362014-06-23T15:44:00.002-07:002015-04-02T22:45:48.490-07:00Breaking Mediocre <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I stopped blogging.<br />
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I'm not sure why or when it started to crumble but I decided to just let it fade away into the background while other things came into focus. I became disenchanted with the blogging world on a whole because actual content was thrown to the wayside and it suddenly became about how well you could photograph your coffee and your Birkenstocks. It became all about branding and knowing "the right" bloggers and fucking "curating" (can we please put that word back into museums and not use it for a post on how to make rustic meatloaf?!). Things felt vapid and disingenuous. Things were just...things.<br />
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I'm no better. I took up the wonderful world of Instagram like any girl who wanted to major in photography and writing while making her life look like an Anthropologie ad. I was/am seduced by the endless opportunities to share and take in bits and pieces of life while spinning them in a delightful aesthetic. Some people described it as "micro blogging" and I thought "well, that seems like less work and it certainly looks prettier, so why not?"<br />
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But something was missing. It all still felt sort of empty.<br />
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I've been writing for as long as I can remember feeling really good when I did it. I felt like I was finally doing my mind a service and so I used it as an escape. I used it as therapy. I used it as a way to communicate the things my mind and my mouth couldn't unstick when people asked me "what are you thinking about". And then the Real World took hold. I had to recover from a divorce. I had to fend for myself and rebuild a world for myself and Jack. I worked. I got into a relationship. I worked some more. We started building a home.<br />
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In the midst of all of this I stopped writing. I justified it by saying "well, the blogging world is all fake bullshit anyway so what's the point?" But I neglected to remind myself that I've always done it for me and if I could do it again for purely that reason, maybe I would be able to write regularly again.<br />
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Maybe I wouldn't fill the void with hashtags and filtered peonies.<br />
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So, here I am again. I'm going to try this for the umpteenth time. And if you want to read along, I welcome you. <br />
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-Amanda</div>
Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808888025816733460noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050971385915109733.post-22227689836104467422013-12-13T11:35:00.001-07:002013-12-13T11:35:55.779-07:00Modern Romance<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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When <i></i>I was sixteen I believed in a certain kind of romance. Not having very many relationships (read: none) my ideas of romance consisted of what I think is best summed up in a scene in High Fidelity-</div>
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<a href="https://www.facebook.com/#" role="button" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;">Barry</a>: I wanna date a musician.</div>
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<a href="https://www.facebook.com/#" role="button" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;">Rob Gordon</a>: I wanna live with a musician. She'd write songs at home and ask me what I thought of them, and maybe even include one of our little private jokes in the liner notes.</div>
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<a href="https://www.facebook.com/#" role="button" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;">Barry</a>: Maybe a little picture of me in the liner notes.</div>
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<a href="https://www.facebook.com/#" role="button" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;">Dick</a>: Just in the background somewhere.</div>
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When I was nineteen my life took a different turn. An unplanned pregnancy, an engagement, in-laws, jobs- suddenly Little Girl Lost turned into Little Girl Better Get Your Shit Together, Fast. Romance took a backseat to reality. </div>
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My first marriage didn't work out. Two people going through different sets of growing pains that turned them into strangers with different outlooks on separate paths- things got loud, then they got silent. The type of atrophy where you look across the dinner table and wait for the other person, with just as much sadness in their eyes, to announce the time of death. We only knew each other through our son. And in wanting to keep things happy for him, we severed our own animosity and forged new lives with the same goal- become better people for him. </div>
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When I unloaded the bags of clothing and belongings, weighed more heavy by disappointment, by feelings of failure, into the empty room that I currently live in (although the scenery has changed drastically) I swore I'd never go through that again. I'd never marry again. And what's more- I'd probably never really trust the workings of love or relationships. The inner cynic had proof now and it became my cross to bare. </div>
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One windy and overcast day in November 2011, my best friend/roommate and I went out to lunch at Bumsted's and began our usual lunch discussions. At that point I was fed up with my call center job that left me a silent ball of disenchantment at the end of every workday and Colleen, picking up the nuances in my behavior the way one will when you live with them for a bit, asked me if I considered just changing it up.</div>
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"Have you served before?"</div>
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"Yeah, kind of. It was alright."</div>
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"Why don't you apply here?!"</div>
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"Okay. Why not..."</div>
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I filled out an impromptu application on a piece of yellow legal paper and left it with our server. Colleen texted Bethany, former roommate and current bartender at Bumsted's, and asked a favor and a week later I had an interview. </div>
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I walked in and asked the bartender about my impending interview, not realizing who I was talking to would become one of the most important people in my life. </div>
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I got the job. </div>
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I met Zack.</div>
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We hustled through a busy season together. Making small talk and jokes in between putting in orders and bussing tables. The small talk turned into hours long post-work conversations with him behind the bar and me becoming more loose lipped with each vodka gimlet until suddenly the stranger I saw the day of my interview turned into a friend and then...something. </div>
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I walked home one day after a deeper post-work conversation. The kind where somehow you've etched out a place of comfort and camaraderie in a person. It was a brisk winter afternoon and as I walked I felt weightless and then something heavy settled into my chest (and has since never left)- I have strong feelings for this person. Me. The chick that hates everything and everybody. The chick that doesn't believe in most things, especially the fickleness of feelings. Suddenly, my body met the ghost of my former self.</div>
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"I'm catching feelings, as the kids say, for him," I confessed to Bethany one day after work. And her face lit up because she had been privy to information I hadn't- he had too. </div>
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For weeks after that we did a lockstepped dance- the I Really, Really Fucking Like You But I'm Too Chickenshit To Say or Do Anything About It So Please Notice These Subtle Moves Dance. At this point we had talked until our heads turned blue. We had hung out. I asked for rides home from work even though I lived a distance close enough to even necessitate them (and had previously been walking to and from work every day) just so I could be in a small space, alone, with him. And I lingered before the exit thinking "now! Yes, now! Say it! Do it!"</div>
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"Okay, see ya tomorrow."</div>
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"Goodbye, Amanda."</div>
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The height of this dance came in March, where I couldn't handle it anymore and finally, in a sloppy text, confessed my feelings. Oh, modernity. </div>
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We took a trip to Bisbee and everything came out on the way home and we returned from highway 80 a couple. </div>
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It'll be two years in April. He's watched me struggle through a lot of shit. He's navigated through the process of becoming a step-father to my son. We've grown and bonded more and more every day.</div>
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I'm twenty-five. I'll be twenty-six in March. And now romance means something different than my previous teenage notions. </div>
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Romance means not giving up.</div>
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Romance is finding pieces of yourself that you thought were dead in somebody else. </div>
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Romance is greeting the ebbs and flows with grace and tenderness. </div>
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Romance is picking up the kids or making dinner or bringing by a snack because you're TOO FUCKING TIRED FOR THIS SHIT!</div>
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Romance is greeting the ugliness with open eyes and acceptance. </div>
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Romance is a second chance.</div>
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We picked out an older ring at Copper Country. A small, delicate thing that I looked at fondly for what it represented- taking something old and giving it a new life. </div>
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That is romance to me now.</div>
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Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808888025816733460noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050971385915109733.post-72173642492693927642013-12-01T20:22:00.002-07:002013-12-01T20:25:29.832-07:00Body Love<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
If you haven't caught wind of her on the internet yet, Jes M. Baker of <a href="http://www.themilitantbaker.com/">The Militant Baker </a>has been making a splash in the world of body positivity. Currently, my roommate is working together with her and a team of incredible women on the first Body Love Conference, aimed to promote body acceptance and positivity in a supportive community. In a world where society seems to hold vicious views and standards on women's (and men's) bodies thus having a negative affect on their lives, this cause is breath the fresh air. To be content, to be HAPPY, with oneself is thing we cannot lose sight of.<br />
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But movements like this have to gain traction, and events like this do cost money to put on. Although the outcome is priceless. So I'm asking you for help. Please help us get this conference off the ground and start a movement towards love- of each other and ourselves.<br />
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The Body Love Conference fundrazr can be found <a href="https://fundrazr.com/campaigns/2dNn8/ab/82CDI0">HERE</a>.<br />
AND if you'd like to attend this spectacular event, you can purchase tickets <a href="http://www.eventbee.com/v/thebodyloveconference">HERE</a>.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Photo via <a href="https://www.facebook.com/themilitantbaker">The Militant Baker Facebook page</a>.</span></div>
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Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808888025816733460noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050971385915109733.post-28938435050889244022013-10-28T00:08:00.002-07:002013-10-28T00:08:47.036-07:00Lou Reed<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I can't be certain how I first discovered The Velvet Underground and Lou Reed. An avid reader of music magazines and an avid haver of crushes on musicians, it was only natural that they slip in there somewhere. And while they began to fill my iTunes collection (I graduated in 2006, I'm sorry I'm not cool enough to have had them on vinyl first) inconspicuously, the influence began to take hold.<br />
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Lou Reed is the reason I still quest for the perfect pair of black jeans.<br />
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Lou Reed is the reason that if I have a fantastic day with somebody I love, I immediately put on "Perfect Day" when I get home.<br />
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Lou Reed seems like the only person I didn't have to explain bouts of depression too. I just put on some VU and things started to feel like home. Things would freeze and I'd have time to re-group. Maybe this is why I feel the need to immediately find them in any jukebox I encounter. Feeling lost in a crowd, I can pop in a dollar and pick a few of their songs and feel less anxiety ridden. I could even feel good.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i></i></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i>But if you're tired and you're sick of the city<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Remember that it's just a flower<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Made out of clay, oh, the city</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Where everything seems so dirty<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />But if you're tired and you're filled with self-pity<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Remember that you're just one more</i></span></div>
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Person who's there</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">Lou Reed is the reason why I hear "Sweet Jane" in my head every time I open up a pack of cigarettes. </span></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">Thank whatever deity for The Velvet Underground. They help uncool kids with predilections for poetry feel just a little cooler. </span></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">Lou Reed is the reason I bothered to write this shitty blog today. I haven't written much (excuse me while I replay "Oh! Sweet Nothing" for the third time) and it has been a sore spot for far too many months. The best artists inspire while simply doing their own thing. </span></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">Thanks, Lou; for the music that was the friend I always wanted around when I just wanted to be alone. Or take a walk on the wild side. Or cool it down. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">It was a pleasure. <i> </i></span><br />
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Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808888025816733460noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050971385915109733.post-16392130024044624682013-05-20T13:03:00.000-07:002013-05-20T13:03:15.116-07:00Music Monday<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I'm so terrible at updating these days, but explanations are kind of boilerplate.<br />
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Boredom<br />
Uninspired<br />
Disenchanted<br />
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But! Music has always made me happy, so I figured I would post today with something I found and cannot stop listening to-<br />
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I think it sounds like a languid summer afternoon. Maybe a cocktail. Maybe a make out sesh with your favorite person. </div>
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I could use both right now. </div>
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Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808888025816733460noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050971385915109733.post-5497781420184023972013-05-08T15:43:00.002-07:002013-05-08T15:43:39.149-07:00Help Out "Wild Things: Burlesque Beauties & The Pets They Love"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Burlesque happens to be a hobby of mine (albeit a sporadic one, but one nonetheless) and I am also the roommate/BFF to local performer, <a href="http://pisacake.net/" style="color: #444444; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;">Pisa Cake</a>. In between life we have rhinestoned into the early morning, performed and even traveled (Burlycon ‘11, WUT!) together in the name of our beloved craft. So when she gets FEATURED IN A BOOK I have to cosign that shit and buy like five copies. BUT! There will be no books to look lovely on my coffee table if the goal funds are not raised. So, I’m asking you for help. Every little bit helps and is greatly appreciated! I am unable to hug through the interwebs but know that I am sending virtual hugs of thanks.<br />
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Tony Marisco’s Kickstarter for the project can be found<a href="http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/244215250/wild-things-burlesque-beauties-and-the-pets-they-l" style="color: #444444; margin-bottom: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"> here</a>. </div>
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Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808888025816733460noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050971385915109733.post-78156575381146234522013-04-19T13:01:00.001-07:002013-04-19T13:10:47.526-07:00Friday Fondue<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Back when I was writing over at Lullabies, I was doing a weekly roundup of links that I titled Friday Fondue. I sort of miss doing it so I figured I'd bring it back here.<br />
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A friend on Facebook shared this the other day and it is too good to not share again. Ladies and gents- <a href="http://twentytwowords.com/2012/03/15/christopher-walken-reads-where-the-wild-things-are/">Christopher Walken reading Where The Wild Things Are</a>. </div>
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Fellow Tucsonan and vintage stylist extraordinaire, Sydney Ballesteros of <a href="http://goldengirlofthewest.blogspot.com/">Golden Girl of the West</a> does it again with a photo shoot that makes me think "this is what Megan Draper would look like if she went to Vegas." Check it out <a href="http://www.blackcatvintage.com/gallery.php?id=32">here</a>. </div>
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Speaking of Megan Draper (can you tell I've been stoked on Mad Men's new season finally gracing us with it's presence on Sunday nights again?), Buzzfeed gives you <a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/louispeitzman/reasons-to-love-megan-draper-on-mad-men">11 reasons to love he</a>r. And I have to agree. </div>
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<a href="http://www.westelm.com/products/bend-dining-chair-h012/?pkey=call-outdoor&bnrid=3917930&cm_ven=AfCmtyCont&cm_cat=Reward&Style=&cm_pla=GAN&cm_ite=Std">These chairs!</a></div>
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It's near Summer in the Ol' Pueblo (our Springs are really more Summer-lite) and the Stevie Nicks wannabe inside of me can't help but find these outfits perfect. <a href="http://pinterest.com/pin/54535845460160342/">One</a>, <a href="http://pinterest.com/pin/54535845460160356/">two</a>,<a href="http://pinterest.com/pin/54535845460160339/"> three</a> and <a href="http://pinterest.com/pin/216735800789806041/">four</a>.</div>
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If you're looking for a nice summer cocktail, <a href="http://www.refinery29.com/living-archive-101">Refinery 29 has you covered</a>. </div>
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I can't get enough risotto, so naturally <a href="http://www.skinnytaste.com/2013/03/spring-asparagus-risotto.html">this recipe was drooled over</a>. </div>
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As the mother to a son, <a href="http://www.girlsgonechild.net/2013/04/we-need-to-allow-men-to-be-sensitive.html">Rebecca's post on letting boys be sensitive</a> (and the stigma of them being called "weak" for it), hit home. It is so important that we raise empathetic, caring individuals in a world that experiences such harshness these days. </div>
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And now, off to try and capture as much as of the weekend as possible. Cheers!</div>
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Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808888025816733460noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050971385915109733.post-41228978142467836352013-04-11T11:09:00.000-07:002013-04-11T11:09:38.482-07:00It Is You<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It was you that I pined over at the bar to our mutual friend who knew our feelings were mutual but we were too shy to do anything about it.<br />
It was you whose car I had an impossible time getting out of. Another song. Another block. Maybe we should just go get coffee? It took about five of those to work up the courage to tell you to come inside.<br />
"Will you stay here until I fall asleep?"<br />
It is you where I find any comfort in the world.<br />
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A year ago we took a day trip. I needed a change of scenery to try and recharge after a particularly draining month. Or, rather, a particularly draining couple of years. On our way back I laid my head on your arm and remained that way for about seventy-five miles. And for the first time I felt okay. Simply at peace with everything and myself. And since then we have been inseparable.<br />
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It was you that brought me back to life.<br />
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It has been a year, sweetheart, although it is hard to mark time these days. With our eyes on the horizon and our hearts holding on to everything in between, it is simply time. But it has been the best time. The most loved, cherished and insatiable time.<br />
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Happy Anniversary, my dear.<br />
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Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808888025816733460noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050971385915109733.post-84935706475688769592013-04-04T00:23:00.000-07:002013-04-04T00:23:11.954-07:00This blog<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This blog is not a collection of beautifully photographed moments.<br />
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This blog is not filled with clothing that cost more than my phone bill.<br />
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This blog doesn't have recipes.<br />
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This blog is me.<br />
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It is imperfect and pieced together. It is whatever I can muster from exhaustion or share from joy. It is my panic and my reverie.<br />
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It changes texture, tone and interest the same way my mind, body and soul have. It is an invitation in and yet as far as some will get but it is here. I am here. I am here to create, to crumple it up and say "fuck it" and start again. I am here to reach out into a great expanse and hope that I pull back something to know we are all still moving together in this.<br />
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This blog is human.<br />
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I have clung to words and found truth in them when everything else is a question. And so I write.<br />
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I write for here. I write for this place. I write for there and then and why and how and fuck and yes and him and<br />
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Me<br />
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This blog is me.<br />
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And I hope it is as imperfect and present and filled with the truth it took to create it.<br />
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Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808888025816733460noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050971385915109733.post-49273255958652434742013-03-31T22:00:00.000-07:002013-03-31T22:00:04.950-07:00Music Monday<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Even though I've heard the Rolling Stone's version of this forever ago and every now and then (and even though I am a Stones fan) I am so smitten with Tegan and Sara's version of this song. I was introduced to it by GIRLS (Lena Dunham, let's be friends?) and now I can't stop hitting the repeat button like it owes me money and singing it in the shower when nobody is home. </div>
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Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808888025816733460noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050971385915109733.post-35628871767878754342013-03-19T20:43:00.000-07:002013-03-19T22:15:51.766-07:00Follow my blog with Bloglovin<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In trying to get back into blogging regularly again, I tried changing up the look a little and registering with Bloglovin again. I had been registered when I was blogging over at Lullabies and I figured it was time to set this space up the same way as well. So there you have it. Riveting post, I know.<br />
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<a href="http://www.bloglovin.com/en/blog/6121079" title="Follow Swedeheart on Bloglovin"><img alt="Follow on Bloglovin" border="0" src="http://www.bloglovin.com/widget/bilder/en/widget.gif?id=6121079" /></a></div>
Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808888025816733460noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050971385915109733.post-76613778452930539752013-03-12T13:21:00.001-07:002013-03-12T13:25:12.351-07:00Currently<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's been a busy first half of the month. Zack has started at a new job and is adjusting to a 9-5 after being in the restaurant industry for awhile, but he has been enjoying it. It's been hard trying to align some semblance of a routine now that we work opposite hours and weekends tend to be where the money is in my job, which means I'm usually working them. But I think we've found something we can live with until we move in together, which we're looking to do hopefully by the summer.<br />
If that hasn't eaten up most of our time, we have been spending the rest of it celebrating birthdays. I turned twenty-five on March 1st. Jack turned five on March 8th, a birthday that he also shares with two close friends and my little brother. So, there's been a lot of celebrating in between the daily grind.<br />
I've also decided to embark on a new venture that I'm pretty excited about but will explain more of in a later post.<br />
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I just felt like a quick update to get the ball moving again when it comes to this blog. One of the best ways I've found is a Currently post...<br />
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I've currently been-<br />
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<i style="font-weight: bold;">Listening to... </i>Bits of Devendra Banhart's newest album, Mala. It's been near impossible to get <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q8MqQWhKvpE">THIS </a>song out of my head. I'm not complaining though. Other than that it's been a lot of The Walkmen, Talking Heads and the Kinks...as usual.<br />
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<b><i>Reading... </i></b>I haven't been reading nearly enough. Most down time is spent catching up on sleep with Freaks and Geeks playing in the background on Netflix. But every now and then I bring a book of one my favorite poets in the bath with me. It tends to be Bukowski...a lot.<br />
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<b><i>Enjoying... </i></b>Jack. There's just something about this age now that has been so fun. He's the handsomest devil with the sweetest disposition, and I'm not just saying so because I'm his mother and tend to be biased. We take walks and talk the entire way. He's easy to reason with now and he is so quick to learn and pick up on things. I'm soaking it all in as much as I can until his teen years hit.<br />
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<i style="font-weight: bold;">Excited about... </i>I haphazardly came across a group of women in Tucson that do written word shows every month and I've been welcomed and encouraged to perform. Think Vagina Monologues, but with a changing subject line and performances are used to raise money for local charities. I'm glad I'll have the chance to write on a deadline, which is something I've been meaning to get better at, as well as meet some more of the amazing women in the arts that Tucson seems to be bursting at the seams with.<br />
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<b><i>Craving...</i></b> Beets and brussels sprouts. If I could eat both all day, I would. Zack cooked me up a bunch of both on Sunday and there were no leftovers. I can't get enough of them. I'm also craving a little getaway, but I'm more likely to get the beets and brussels sprouts.<br />
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What's up with you?Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808888025816733460noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050971385915109733.post-53436908125486250922013-03-07T01:14:00.000-07:002013-03-07T12:10:45.172-07:00Five Dear Jack,<br />
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Tomorrow you will be five and I'm still not sure how this happens. The number feels rounder and heavier than it's predecessor. You are taller and have shed so much of your toddler features I have to remind myself that you're still the same boy.<br />
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Where did this go?<br />
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So much has changed in our lives but you've always managed to roll with the punches in a way that I, at twenty-five, admire. You have retained your sweetness towards the world and extend it wherever you can. There is a part of me that pleads with the Universe to not take that from you. I wish for your health, your future; but I wish, more than anything, that your disposition remains. </div>
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In a selfish way I am filled with pride. There is a feeling that you've done something right when a person like you exists in the world. I must check that and check it often because you are your own person. You are my favorite person.</div>
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There are moments where I am caught in sheer wonderment. </div>
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How are you MY son?</div>
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How did I deserve you?</div>
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Somewhere along the way I asked a question and then the answer was born. March 8th, 2008. </div>
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I have strived to find what I was meant to do with my life. Some affinities stick and some fall behind. Sometimes I feel like a failure and sometimes I just feel like an amateur. But there is one undeniable truth in my life. </div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">You are the still point of my turning world. </span></div>
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I love you more than you can fathom, Bubs</div>
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Mom</div>
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Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808888025816733460noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050971385915109733.post-4486580669720147612013-01-03T20:57:00.002-07:002013-01-03T20:59:31.344-07:002012<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Amidst the excitement of the new year and posts promising the reclaiming of self through resolutions, I find myself still latching on to the moments of 2012 that kept my heart humming along. I don't often try and dwell on what will happen in the future. My life has been spent revising "plans". </div>
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Adapting. </div>
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Accepting disappointment or facing unknowns and moving forward. There were moments this year where moving forward seemed impossible, where everything felt too heavy to face. There were moments where I closed the curtains and let myself wallow.</div>
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"I don't know how much more of this I can handle. It never gets easier..."</div>
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Everything feels like an overwhelming challenge when you have depression lingering in the unchecked corners of your brain. There are times when your faulty synapsis and neurotransmitters turn from science to monster. It sits in the backseat of the car sometimes. You try and swallow it down with your coffee. It makes itself cozy in your body while you wonder where you left yourself. In the grocery parking lot? At the bank? Surely I must be somewhere. </div>
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But there were also moments where I did find myself....</div>
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It may not get easier but it I am lucky. </div>
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When I was a regular church goer, at my baptism a friend gave me a card and on the inside it said "he never said it would be easy, he only said it would be worth it." It's been years since I lost religion, but I still find that line comforting sometimes. And while I may have my hangups, I'm still hanging on. </div>
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I hope the new year finds you all in good spirits. I hope you can all make your own light and care for one another. Hold your families close and find the honesty in this adventure we wake up to every day. </div>
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<br />Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808888025816733460noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050971385915109733.post-25347355444437912232012-12-26T12:52:00.003-07:002012-12-26T12:52:21.856-07:00Currently- Jack Edition<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5NQVb5nS6SMl3TZAxbhhIx0JXvvq7TjlBz9EqyyD8nQu3u_bVTZ7zd6CUkM0xN8Xu9ooIdZuNC4YHhTdbYatSC1E0n2iI8fY-gQuHqQNOzbfX5YEWXg_52ndue92EFl9DkhplrEv73tQ/s1600/jumpinjackflash.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5NQVb5nS6SMl3TZAxbhhIx0JXvvq7TjlBz9EqyyD8nQu3u_bVTZ7zd6CUkM0xN8Xu9ooIdZuNC4YHhTdbYatSC1E0n2iI8fY-gQuHqQNOzbfX5YEWXg_52ndue92EFl9DkhplrEv73tQ/s320/jumpinjackflash.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i><b>Watching</b></i>- Adventure Time. Always Adventure Time. I can't blame him though. He's made me obsessed with the show as well. Yesterday he was pretty engrossed in Home Alone (which is one of my favorite Christmas movies).<br />
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<i><b>Loving</b></i>- All the Christmas gifts he received yesterday. Between a bike, a Spiderman skateboard, every Ninja Turtle action figure and accessory Target had to offer and everything in between- it's safe to say I got to enjoy some calm coffee time as he spread out on the living room rug and tried to decide what he wanted to do first.<br />
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<b><i>Listening to</i></b>- Whatever Zack and I shuffle through in the car. He's a fan of anything catchy. His favorite band is still Queen. I thought he would have outgrown them by now, as toddlers and children often outgrow everything (last Christmas he got their greatest hits in his stocking) but now we've pretty much decided that Freddie Mercury is Jack's spirit animal. I mean...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is a four year old Queen fan</td></tr>
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He can do a mean <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bRdo7WXTVoM">"I Want To Break Free"</a>. </div>
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<i style="font-weight: bold;"> Going- </i>Everywhere. Being that Jack is co-parented by his father and I, Jack tends to go all over the place. Between visiting his nana and pop-pop (Greg's mom and dad) on the far northwest side of Tucson, visiting Tristin's (Greg's girlfriend) family in Flagstaff to going to the far eastside of Tucson to visit with Zack's family; Jack is a travelin' man. Today we get to settle down, right in the middle, and relax at my house. And while I love being around everyone in a haze of happiness and ham, I am very much enjoying right now- just me and my boy.<br />
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<b><i>Making him happy</i></b>- The Sketcher shoes I got him for Christmas. I'm not sure why, but he was hell bent on getting these shoes for the last six months. I don't know what he's going to talk about now that he has them to stomp around in. The boy is particular about his shoes. I don't know where that comes from.<br />
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*<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Thanks to Danielle over at <a href="http://sometimessweet.blogspot.com/">Sometimes Sweet </a>for the idea of doing a kiddie edition of Currently. </span></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i><br /></i></span>Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808888025816733460noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050971385915109733.post-24018663163116864152012-12-12T23:09:00.001-07:002012-12-12T23:09:43.583-07:00GIF Party<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Sometimes I go into a gif trance and I figured I might as well just turn it into a "thing" here. Tonight I found some Home Alone gifs that made me giggle (Home Alone also happens to be one of my favorite holiday movies), which was much needed after a day of trying to play nurse to Zack, who has come down with some flu-like sickness, only to start feeling kind of crappy myself. So, we're sick. </div>
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Anyway, here's my first round of what I'm going to call GIF Party (in reference to Black Flag's "TV Party"). This one is the <b>Home Alone Edition</b>. </div>
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When Zack is rockin' the beard and I'm all...</div>
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When my roommate comes home from Whole Foods...</div>
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When I accidentally put my jeans in the dryer and then try and get into them a few days later...</div>
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That moment where I think the day is going well...</div>
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When somebody asks me what I'm doing over the weekend...</div>
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During "Shark Week", when I've run out of Give A Fucks...</div>
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That third cup of coffee...</div>
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<br />Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808888025816733460noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050971385915109733.post-86381337024477429422012-12-11T11:04:00.001-07:002013-03-12T13:35:25.171-07:00Tuesday Tunes- Getting Kinky I was going to do a Music Monday post until I realized it was actually Tuesday. So this is my off-brand of Music Monday, the bagged cereal, if you will- Tuesday Tunes.<br />
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There's just something about this song that opens up my chest and fills it with the overwhelming urge to take a road trip.<br />
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<br />Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808888025816733460noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050971385915109733.post-11716501453217868552012-12-09T21:33:00.001-07:002012-12-11T10:50:24.369-07:00In Reverie The holiday season is upon us and it's been hectic and left me with little wherewithal to blog. I've also just been a feeling hoarder lately. I used to immediately want to get things down, afraid that by the time my fingers hit the keyboard the colors, smells and textures of the moment would distort and I'd be left trying to create something tangible out of the intangible. These days I'm a little bit more present. I don't have to get everything down. The moments that count are recorded, indelibly, where it matters.<br />
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I revel in the windows cracked open, letting the fall air trace exposed arms or feet while the warmth in the slept in sheets creates a safe harbor.<br />
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I revel in my head finding the familiar places, closing my eyes and...breathe.<br />
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I revel in their laughter.<br />
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I revel in them.<br />
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"I'll get this all down later."<br />
<br />
The now is where my heart lives. The later is where I let my mind wander. I find them in both places.Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808888025816733460noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050971385915109733.post-21289932291016523112012-10-30T12:05:00.000-07:002012-10-30T12:05:09.004-07:00Currently In blogging you make so many grand plans.<br />
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"I'm going to post everyday! *and then reality sets in* "I'm going to post every other day!"<br />
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And then you don't.<br />
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"I'm going to revamp it and make the layout so aesthetically pleasing it will look like an actual legit blog!"<br />
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And then you don't.<br />
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"I'm going to network more with other bloggers and get to know the community!"<br />
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And then you don't.<br />
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I haven't. For awhile. And that's life, there are ebbs and flows and unfortunately I found myself in an ebb. Creatively, I wasn't feeling it. Time-wise, I wasn't feeling it. And frankly when you're a tiny blog in a vast blogging ocean sometimes you think "what's the point?"<br />
<br />
But I've been blogging in some form or another since I was fifteen and it's become such a part of me that I'll never completely let it go, even when it feels as though I am due to inactivity. Sometimes you have to remind yourself that just because it isn't on the page or screen doesn't mean it's left you.<br />
<br />
Anyway, these Currently posts have been circulating the blog world like mad and I actually like them. It's good way to get little snippets of life out there and it seems manageable so I think I'll try it.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>Currently</i></span>-<br />
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<b><i>Watching</i></b>- Lots of horror movies and American Horror Story. It's the time of year that favorites scary movie junkies and I love it. It would seem as though Jack got my genes in that realm as he has been asking me to watch "scary movies" all the time. I'm excited to get to share in this more in the future. Our Halloween's are going to be awesome.<br />
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<b><i>Reading</i></b>- The Rolling Stone. My roommate has a subscription and I've been thumbing through them when new ones come in. I forgot how much I love to read magazine articles. I used to want to write a column or be a journalist for a music magazine and reading articles in the Stone reminds me to keep working on writing no matter what I am writing for. It also reminded me that I haven't watched Almost Famous in awhile which I may remedy today.<br />
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<b><i>Thinking about</i></b>- Everything. There is absolutely no time in my life to be bored. I'm either working, thinking of the future and the process I must go through to make it a reality, and trying to stay present enough to enjoy actually going through the process. Things like future careers, finding and making a home for the three of us, finances, co-parenting Jack in harmony, taking better care of myself- these all weigh on my mind most waking hours. In between the heavy I think about how excited about Fall I am and all the activities I want to do because of it, revamping my closet, and how much a vacation sounds like just what the doctor ordered.<br />
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<b><i>Loving</i></b>- These two. We have been finding a happy place in bedtime stories (I've been trying to work with Jack more on reading and writing with kindergarten right around the corner. Holyshitballswhatthefuckhappenedtomybaby?!??!) lately. Jack really enjoys the ritual of it and it's just one of those things that brings a pause to the day and allows you to enjoy being close to the people you love. My favorite so far has been <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Adam-Rex/e/B001IGLUCC/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1">Frankenstein Makes A Sandwich</a>. It's hilarious and I actually just discovered the author, <a href="http://www.adamrex.com/">Adam Rex</a>, lives in Tucson. So obviously I must recommend it for its extreme awesomeness.<br />
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<b><i>Listening to</i></b>- The Walkmen.<br />
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<b><i>Making me happy</i></b>- All of the above. Oh, and coffee. Lots and lots of coffee.<br />
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Here's to finding the flow to the ebb.<br />
<br />
-Amanda<br />
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<br />Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808888025816733460noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050971385915109733.post-54760008494991571812012-10-13T00:30:00.001-07:002012-10-13T00:32:13.372-07:00 We spent our six monthiversary in a way wholly our own- drinking a couple cocktails while doing the New York Times crossword puzzle in the back of the Tucson Weekly as our friends called us disgusting due to the excessive amounts of affection we generally bestow on one another.<br />
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We are not one year in, or ten years in. Not twenty-five or fifty. But we don't care. We celebrate.<br />
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We celebrate because both of us know how the world is and how seemingly impossible it felt before.<br />
We celebrate because neither of us has ever smiled so genuinely.<br />
We celebrate because the future is suddenly worth celebrating.<br />
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And we keep on celebrating.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i> These two people will beat the everloving shit out of you on Scene It. </i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">To many more, my dear.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808888025816733460noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050971385915109733.post-14513849358566202142012-10-04T22:07:00.000-07:002012-10-07T22:15:44.430-07:00Words like candy<br />
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I have been, for some inexplicable reason, compiling a list of my favorite words. What are yours?</div>
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An Ever-Expanding List</div>
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melancholy</div>
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glockenspiel</div>
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perturbed</div>
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nuance</div>
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serendipitous</div>
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juggernaut</div>
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argonaut (apparently I have a thing for "-nauts")</div>
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banjo </div>
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turpentine</div>
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lupine</div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">chartreuse</span></div>
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ruminate</div>
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eviscerate</div>
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masticate</div>
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bereft</div>
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haphazard</div>
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maudlin</div>
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chasm</div>
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subtle</div>
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wane</div>
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esoteric</div>
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generator</div>
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acquiesce, also followed by...</div>
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dissent </div>
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suspend</div>
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livid</div>
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jubilant</div>
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schedule</div>
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smitten</div>
Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808888025816733460noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050971385915109733.post-27225637655674097052012-10-02T11:13:00.000-07:002012-10-02T11:13:05.643-07:00Bisbee<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Since Zack and I started dating, Bisbee has been our reprieve from the Tucson Blues (sometimes you just have to get out of town for a day). A mere hour from Tucson, we find weather at least ten degrees cooler (it's still in the nineties in Tucson), delicious food and spirits and a relaxed atmosphere that keeps us coming back as often as we can. I'm sure the copper hued town will be a frequent guest on this blog, as I hold it near and dear to my heart.<br />
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<br />Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808888025816733460noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050971385915109733.post-36432970168558201452012-09-07T21:53:00.000-07:002012-09-07T21:53:28.160-07:00More is more I have decided I need more of the following-<br />
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More tattoos.<br />
More tights.<br />
More coffee.<br />
More nights spent outside.<br />
More cooking in the kitchen, kissing in between measuring out spices and dusting crumbs off of countertops.<br />
More peach lemonade before it cools down and the climate changes my taste buds again.<br />
More morning sunlight and open windows.<br />
More rolling over because it's too hot and then finding each other while still asleep because it's us.<br />
More us.<br />
More walks.<br />
More drives out to our favorite copper hued town accompanied by music and talks of nothing and everything.<br />
More talks.<br />
Of hope.<br />
Of the future.<br />
Of children.<br />
Of houses turned into homes.<br />
Of old age.<br />
<br />
More of that.<br />
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<br />Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808888025816733460noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050971385915109733.post-26949413514125761582012-08-26T10:20:00.001-07:002012-08-26T10:30:21.609-07:00Sunday Funday?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's been a hard couple of days. Zack is out of town, Greg (Jack's father) and I have been having some tension, I came down with a sinus infection, finances are tight and I got less than what I would have liked on a test (likely due to all the aforementioned stress). All within about 48 hours of each other. Needless to say, when I got home Saturday afternoon I was ready for a cocktail, but given the being sick thing, I think I may have to wait until next week.<br />
Luckily, I have the Worlds Greatest Roomates who got pizza, made me tea and doled out the appropriate meds for my head and congestion, and made pancakes for Jack and I in the morning. My nose won't stop running but at least my heart is starting to feel better. Thank god for some people.<br />
I am going to cuddle Jack, watch movies and kiss Zack when he gets home tonight.<br />
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May you all have a beautiful Sunday.<br />
Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808888025816733460noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5050971385915109733.post-54601829576024431692012-08-19T18:19:00.000-07:002012-08-19T18:19:30.135-07:00In two I had a bit of a meltdown yesterday. After Jack was dropped off, after the shoes were removed and snacks were had, after the crayons were dumped on the floor and the cars and helicopters were found- I had a meltdown. It was small but it hurt the way some realizations that manage to find the bruises in your heart that remain just below the surface, unseen to the human eye, hurt. Jack is a child of divorce.<br />
<br />
Jack is a child who sees one parent and not the other, some times and other times. He is growing in an environment that was once demolished and is being reconstructed. And he is beautiful. And smart. And intuitive and kind. And I only see him half of the time. When I find a new characteristic, when a new mannerism emerges that wasn't there before, that I wasn't present for when it was discovered, I can't help but feel defeated at times. At time. Time, It, who is incredibly unforgiving.<br />
<br />
Watching your child grow up is bittersweet in and of itself. Cutting that time in half is a pill that is harder to swallow. Yesterday that pill got caught in my throat, again.<br />
<br />
I don't want him to be lonely. I don't want him to think that because I'm not there physically sometimes, that I care less.<br />
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I miss him before he leaves up until he comes back. Depending on the serotonin levels in my brain I either leave his toys out to remind myself that he's coming back to pick them up again, or I put them away immediately so that I don't come across them in moments of melancholy. In the back of my head there is this reoccurring thought, or maybe plea, that One Day things will change. One Day I'll wake up in the same house with him there, every day. One Day things will be Normal again.<br />
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In the meantime I try and soak up the time he's here. I stare at him more when he isn't looking, committing every hair and freckle to memory before it changes again. I drink up the "moms" that come out of his mouth like it's a protein my soul is deprived of. And when he leaves I put my sails back up and tread water until that lighthouse turns back on again, when crayons are dumped on the floor and stories are read at bedtime.<br />
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<br />Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13808888025816733460noreply@blogger.com0