ode to legs

As of late, I have been running four times a week, every week, in the hopes that on May 7, 2011 my legs will not fold under pressure and extreme exhaustion as they run their first half marathon. To say the least, my preferred set of extremities is continuously cramping, fatigued, and in need of a professional stretch or two - which is why I am dedicating today's post to my constant companions during the next seven weeks of training: legs. Consider this a tribute - like Beethoven's Ode to Joy, or Neruda's Oda a la alcachofa.

They really are magnificently appealing body parts, are they not?

all images courtesy of art inconnu

words are artistic

Maybe you can tell that I'm a big fan of words. I string them together, pull them apart, abbreviate them at inopportune times, and sometimes use them incorrectly, and chalk it up to being artistic. no, not autistic thank-you-very-much. You can imagine my delight when I found others turning words into art - and not in the typical prose or sonnet way. Austin Kleon is a writer and artist from Austin, Texas and has taken the oversimplified concept of blacking out works in a newspaper article, and took it to an entirely new level.

....am i right?

For an equally inspiring, yet altogether more light-hearted stab at human emotions and relationships, check out  how Oli from Oli+Alex molds everyday phrases into art.

Too much truth in these statements, don't you think? The best part is.... she's created loads of these internal dialogues.... cleverly titled "i love you, but."

textile > texting

I hate my cellphone. Not because it's a brick that could just as well be a dumb-bell, but because it exists. Walking around campus, my eyes never meet eyes anymore because every single face is focused -- enthralled, really-- with it's phone. It's plastic, non-human, incapable of knowing emotion phone. However, what I hate about cell phones and the incessant urge to text, I make up for in my love for textiles. Join me in watching the story unfold as Melbourne artist/designer Beci Orpin transforms funky fabrics into the most exciting clothing.

please and thank you, I'll take all of them.

Images courtesy of Banana meet cute

favorite colors aren't normal

After dating for an entire year, Joe and I found it necessary to discover the basics about each other: favorite food, most embarrassing memory, first kiss, and favorite color. In an attempt to uncover the little details that tend to get looked over in modern dating, I realized that I have no pressing favorites...and a very poor memory when it comes to fairy-tale moments that I should, apparently, "never forget." I now know Joe's favorite everything and most embarrassing everything... and what does he know about me? That I am unable to like all colors unequally. That I am a fickle yet fantastical eater, that my entire life is an embarrassing memory, and I have not the faintest idea who planted the first perk-er-roo on me.

Thus, today my favorite color is orange.... blood orange. Edgy.

I can literally feel my immunity increasing just by looking at all that vibrant vitamin C.

Images courtesy of: All the Pretty Birds , The Sartorialist , Pinterest

la gitana

This morning I woke up ( after an eight hour wrestle with insomnia ) wanting nothing more than to just disappear. How irresponsible and shameful would it be to cut all ties, load some bangles onto my wrists and head nowhere fast? They'd call me a gypsy, and they'd wish their routes were unchartered and their lives unmapped, like mine.

... an exquisitely sexy and glamourous gypsy, nonetheless.... should get me far. first stop: sur america.

esa es la realidad: vivir en tonos azules. añoro por ti, argentina.

Images courtesy of: 4th and Bleeker and So much to tell you

home home?

Isn't it funny that whenever we have a shred of doubt  in answering a question, we have a tendency to repeat the word twice in order to clear things up? for example: Q:--when are you going home? (ambiguous... san luis obispo home, or danville home?)

A:--home home?

or...

Q:--what time will you be done with your work? (ambiguous...  job work, school work, or just-for-fun work?)

A:--which work... work work?

Really though, now you'll notice it everywhere, and you'll realize that there is really no reason that repeating a word should offer any insight or enlightenment. But somehow this little echo usually renders the desired clarification -- how very, very strange. strange.

All this talk of echos makes me want to leave my work work and go out and explore some caves.

Southern France for spring break, anyone?

Images courtesy of: Pinterest and The New Yorker

flower hour

In 125 days, my only sister will be walking down the aisle -- which means I have at least 75 more days to scan flower design blogs and websites to draw inspiration from every corner of the world for her big day. During a recent search I came across this little treat from Barcelona, Spain - and of course, as with anything written in spanish and from suave and sophisticated Europe... I swooned. Immediately. These are by no means a representation of their portfolio, but my God are they unique and colorful.

and now to a cooler palette...

So what's the Spanish secret? Spray paint. Seriously.

Now I realize these aren't your average fluffy, romantic, (even pedaled) flowers, but they're too fun to be overlooked... and might just make a funky little house warming present to my sister and future brother-in-law. Surprise!

Images courtesy of Bornay

here's to a few firsts

This weekend, I should have been a disastrous sight. I should have been a greasy-headed mess, clad in too much Cal Poly gear, jittering from a liquid caffeine diet, and peering out of a fourth story library window -- praying with all my might that Finals Week comes and leaves quickly. Instead, I celebrated my upcoming finals week schedule of two disturbingly simple finals both occurring next Friday by engaging in a series of firsts this weekend. Namely, baking some titillatingly tasty ( yes, I just found a way to advertise my keen sense of alliteration with the verb titillate) peanut-pecan biscotti, sitting VIP at a Cal Poly baseball game, and not crying - I repeat - NOT crying during Pride and Prejudice.

If my weekend were a final exam, I objectively, unbiasedly award myself an A... and will be taking myself out shopping to celebrate asap.

In summation, I present in picture form how I studied for my final exams:

Try this heavenly recipe!

... feeling exceptionally American via a little game called baseball

and finally, the ever quintessential Jane Austin masterpiece ( and every gushing sap's dream come true....)

.... Mrs.... Darcy, was it?

Images courtesy of Joy the Baker and life photo archive

Clare Grill

Queens-based painter, Clare Grill, has managed to relinquish her childhood imagination and create, what I find to be, effortlessly stimulating art. In a recent interview, Clare describes the youth she coveted with her sister: "we spoke pretend languages, we believed whatever we wanted and trusted everything we were told…” She makes me ache for those childhood moments of sheer satisfaction and blissful imagination.

Images courtesy of butter and brass

Swelling Sound

Last night I found myself in one of those funks - you know, the ones that cause your eyebrows to furrow, your lips to purse and pout, and make you feel on the verge of tears at any given second, for no given reason. Nothing was strong enough to pull me out-- not a shopping trip, a Beatles film, or even chocolate pudding -- I was slummin it, hard. Waking up with some seriously sexy puffy eyes and one of those behind-the-eye headaches, I realized that my funk had followed me through a rem cycle. After a solid six hours of light-sensitivity squinting, and shooting scowls at strangers, I realized I needed to lose my tude and pull myself together.

For years I've let music dictate my mood. It takes me high, drops me low, ignites a sense of energy within me, and provides the soundtrack to even the most dramatic heartbreaks. I like to think of my relationship with music as a symbiosis of the parasitic nature. It needs me, I need it. This playlist, in particular, flooded the funk right out of my body and sent richly layered melodies, sultry syncopations, and immense walls of sound through my veins.

give it a listen, won't you? Download Swelling Sound here.

Image courtesy of the things she loves

Spring Fever

Making a public promise may have possibly been the best way for me to hold true to a commitment this Lenten season. Though it is really only burning a whole in my wallet and my disposable time, I have been whole-heartedly dedicated to eco-friendly fashion for a whopping day and a half. Someone alert the media. Eco-friendly designer, erin kleinberg, is a toronto based green-glamour-guru. If these patterns and flowing fabrics don't catapult you into a new spring fling, then I don't know what will.

Also, I'm digging the perpetual bed head. Too cute.

And for a not so eco-friendly, but equally drool-worthy serving of fashion eye candy, meet designers clea garrick and nathan price, the creators behind australian fashion label limedrop.

Images courtesy of: butter and brass

agnes thor

Swedish photographer Agnes Thor has a way of capturing the most sincere states of emotion, memory, and vulnerability. Her repertoire revolves around  images of natural, idyllic environments and creates art that reflects past memories and the creationof new ones. The first three are part of a series titled "Broken Promises". They literally left me speechless. Understanding, empathetic, and speechless.

It's nice to know that loneliness is a universal feeling, and that even a day full of "broken promises" spends half it's hours in the light.

Images courtesy of: agnes thor

stairwell, read well.

As a frequent gym-goer, I find myself staring at those sweaty souls who brave the stair master in admiration, respect, and in sheer bewilderment. I for one have no tolerance for mindless climbing, especially when a machine is setting my pace. Although I absolutely hate the burning sensations stairs have on my legs, I pleasantly enjoy the thrilling sensation they have on my eyes. Somewhere along the course of my life I became a sucker for irony -  my love of staircases and hatred towards stairs is just a day in the life around here. Typical.

Guaranteed if the stairs at the gym were this interesting, my buns and thighs would be unstoppable.

Couple  a fun-loving stairwell with some heavily stacked book shelves, and you may literally steal my heart.

Anyone know where I can order this last shelving unit?

Images courtesy of: 27.media.tumblr, and woohome

Oh don't be such a square.

I recently watched Lord of the Rings for the first time (yes, and I wiped all the dirt off my body from living under a rock for seven years), and the only thing I really took away from the movie was the rad hobbit house. Circular doors, rounded hallways, windows and frames - everything a hobbit could ever want or need. Consider this my J. R. R. Tolkien-inspired vow to avoid a boring cube of a home at all times.

the best part is, you don't have to be  a two foot small, shoeless hobbit to live like one.

images courtesy of: Pinterest, Vizeer, and design*sponge

pass the Coppertone, would ya?

I just became painfully aware of the number of times I haven't seen the ocean over the last three months. Living this close to sandy shores, and not getting a fresh breath of sea salt every morning should be a crime. Thus, my punishment ensues by envying these sensationally happy sea-goers from indoors - while browsing for a sweet vintage bathing costume like Zooey's.

She's just too much, isn't she?

Images courtesy of life photo archive and Pinterest

Mardi Gras, Salty Gras.

As Fat Tuesday comes to an end, I'm left with a full belly to reflect on which poison I should toss aside for the next forty days. It's usually meat, with a side of chocolate that I ban from my diet, but this year I am trying something a little unorthodox. Instead of depriving my muscle rejuvenation processes through deficient protein intake, and my large-and-in-charge sweet tooth, I am going to leave my food consumption style unchanged and adopt new lifestyle mantras. 1. Never beat myself up. Over anything. Positivity is Key.

2. Support my clothing obsession with more  sustainable fashion.

3. Live now, and live in color.

So, these may seem, to the untrained eye, to be too new year's resolution-esqe, but I truly believe Lent is about bettering yourself. Steps 1-3 can do that for me. Abandoning the poultry aisle in Trader Joes... not so much.

May I introduce you to the first step toward following mantra 2 and 3: Salty Phillip. They aim to banish the idea that eco is dull, and by the looks of it - they're hitting the target.

40 days? Child's play.

Images courtesy of Salty Phillip

Not so ancient ruins

My Mediterranean heritage has trained me to have a one tracked mind as it perpetually dictates the phrase Greece equals Beauty. This beauty lies on the beaches during sunset, is summated by every dark and handsomely tan man, and resonates in the Glory that is lamb-based food. It's the ancient world that still feels the wind through its marble cracks, and stands proud - but not quite tall - in fields of ruins. After seeing these photos by French photographers Yves Marchand and Romain Meffre, I am humbly corrected. It is not a necessary condition of a ruin to be ancient in order to be beautiful. I give you: Detroit. Frozen in time.

If this last photo of the melting clock doesn't scream Dali, then I don't know what does.

Makes me wonder about the stories behind these rooms. Who lived there, who loved there. Who worked, ached, thought, and succeeded there. It seems that ruins don't only come from European mediterranean climates - the chilly midwest is home to some seriously gorgeous treasures.

Images courtesy of The Denver Post

Ink + Iron and Wine

These ink drawings by Elsa Mora make me want to keep Iron and Wine on repeat. Something about the textures and patterns inspire me to get lost in that one-man-band's heavily  layered melodies.  

images courtesy of Etsy

a white and black heart attack.

Even though our furry groundhog friend warned us that spring was right around the corner over a month ago, I keep finding myself chin deep under the covers. With no pressing plans this cold March night, I find myself comfortably lost in Rodney Smith's grey hues. somebody call the doctor - these photographs are making my heart stop.

all images courtesy of pinterest