Inspired

I try not to take myself too seriously. But, I guess sometimes life is serious. When things get heavy, the one true outlet I've always had is writing. Words are like Sunday mashed potatoes to my soul. When they come at the right time, they leave me feeling comforted and calm.
(Also, maybe a little fat...the mashed potatoes, not the words)

I realize that poetry is an acquired taste. I also feel like its one of the few art forms where there are more artists than people who appreciate the art, if that makes any sense at all. Nobody visits the Sistine Chapel and thinks "Eh, that's no big deal." But, read someone an intensely personal poem you wrote (IT'S MY MASTERPIECE!! YOU HAVE TO HEAR THIS!!) and they may just react that way. I have this vision where I picture a room full of 400 tortured writers spewing deep personal truths to an audience of maybe 6 people who are half paying attention.

So, to the 6 of you who are half paying attention- please feel free to skip this blog post if it isn't your cup of tea. It's December and I'm reflecting. And my readers get to enjoy (endure??) my reflections. 

INSPIRED

I've been spinning on this sphere

for 32 years

Unfounded fears

It all happens so fast..falling, at last.

At least 

When I fall in my dreams I wake up

Backwards, cascading curls swirling

Tumbling in a heap of glittery stars

...and scars.

My heart is knocking at the walls of my chest

No rest.

Day and night, the pounding pace

Darkness amplifies the bass

The race, the chase

I'll never catch it or even try

to fetch it, faster...

Face it. 

And, the air is so heavy

I feel it bearing down my back 

Relentless and cold

Old shoulders, soldiers

Smoldering with boulders of 

weightless force

Forcing this course

Reflections, remorse

Instantly, in a glass smashing, car crashing

heat rising, ears ringing

birds screaming, tears streaming
skip of a beat...

It will stop being

Lost, nobody tells you the cost

Joy and pain 

Loss and gain

Smiles still remain

We bear the brunt of the days behind us

Chains bind us 

But broken, they're strange

Hoping for change

Trying to arrange for inspiration 

adoration

365 days of elation

Breathe

Find solace in silence

Farewell, red velvet...

We hand pick each and every one of our offerings at Bird in Sea Vintage so they become like precious little children to us. We're just fostering them until they find their permanent home. When I saw this handmade, 1960s treasure on a seemingly normal day of thrift hunting I knew I had found gold. Red. Velvet. Gold. She was jammed in the racks between over-sized shoulder pads and pilly, acrylic sweaters. She was, however, not shy. She practically screamed at me and grabbed my attention. She was pristine. But her metal zipper and bit of exposed, yellow thread told me that she didn't take herself too seriously. We were a lot alike. I named her Holly Berry and we became best friends.

Forlorn...

So, while the purpose of our shop is to..... sell, my heart can't help but tug a little bit when one of my favorites flies off the virtual rack. And, when I got the Etsy notification that Holly Berry had sold I had a moment of joy (Yay! Money!), followed by a moment of (decidedly overdramatic) sadness. 

I contemplated mourning her loss with an evening of red velvet cupcakes and Cupcake brand Red Velvet wine. But, that might be a bit extreme... (Not at all. I'm definitely doing this...) So, to the future owner of perhaps my favorite dress of 2011, congratulations. Please treat her kindly. You don't have to have her in by midnight if you don't want to...in fact, please don't. She likes to party.