This is my face
I've got a thousand opinions
And not the time to explain
And this is my body
And no matter how you try and disable it
Yes I'll still be here
And, this, is my mind
And although you try to infringe
You cannot confine
~ Kate Nash
Monday, September 28, 2009
205/365 : Blue & black & white
I was in love with this work outfit, on a very foggy Monday - new Threadless shirt (from the $9 sale) and new over-sized cardigan. So comfortable and soft, everything smelling like new.
203/365 : Peeping Toms
There was a yipping toy dog outside. The cats always watch him quizzically, as if to wonder what's worth getting so upset.
201/365 : POV
I spent almost the entire week horizontal on the couch, recovering from a bastard cold. Afrin + Allegra D + cough syrup w/ codeine = MIRACLE DRUGS
200/365 : Picnic
I turned 27 last weekend. To celebrate, I gathered friends for The Beatles Rock Band then a night of dancing at the Endup. I called the evening a Virgo party, not feeling the personal birthday vibes this year, but wanting to celebrate the wonderful people, new & old, in my life. The night was a blast. I drank much yager, passed out earlier than I would have liked, but still, an epic evening was had.
The next day, my actual birthday, I felt strange - lonely, unhappy, just generally sad. I went to a Sunset party in Marin, but even amongst friends and gorgeous surroundings and music, I sensed a gray cloud. It has been a difficult year and if I learned anything while 26, it's that I can never admit sadness.
Most people celebrate their new years in January, but for me, the beginning and end is the fall. It is in September, that I stop and think. And so, twelve months of struggling and fear bubbled up, over and out. I cried and I remembered.
That very night I also came down with a nasty cold, one that would take a week for me to recover. Days of rest and introspection, days of talks both serious and silly. And so begins my new year. With a cleansing.
27 is the lucky one, right?
The next day, my actual birthday, I felt strange - lonely, unhappy, just generally sad. I went to a Sunset party in Marin, but even amongst friends and gorgeous surroundings and music, I sensed a gray cloud. It has been a difficult year and if I learned anything while 26, it's that I can never admit sadness.
Most people celebrate their new years in January, but for me, the beginning and end is the fall. It is in September, that I stop and think. And so, twelve months of struggling and fear bubbled up, over and out. I cried and I remembered.
That very night I also came down with a nasty cold, one that would take a week for me to recover. Days of rest and introspection, days of talks both serious and silly. And so begins my new year. With a cleansing.
27 is the lucky one, right?
199/365 : Apple crisps
Patty took me to the SF-famous Tartine for birthday treats. This is her choice, which was much prettier than my chocolate pudding. It was a very sweet (and delicious!) birthday present :)
Thursday, September 17, 2009
198/365 : On a wire
Beer buzzed photo of the sunset after a productive GOOD day at work.
I'm on fire.
I'm on fire.
195/365 : Red on gray
I feel like a cloud is lifting and for the first time in forever, I am able to focus.
194/365 : Claude
Claude the albino alligator - it was his birthday so we had cake and sang happy birthday. Another Virgo!
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
193/365 : Pandas
I finally brought personal touches to work - there's many more to this collection, but I don't want to frighten my co-workers just yet.
192/365 : Spirits
New welcome mat - $4.99 at Target. The cats have already claimed it as a bed, especially since we unpacked the last of the boxes. And since Ashmont has taken a special interest in what's outside the door.
190/365 : Ballet
I attended volunteer orientation at the SF Ballet - can't wait to get started! The volunteer organization president took us on a tour of the building, including the rehearsal space and school. I still want to be a ballerina when I grow up.
188/365 : Morning
I wish we could open our eyes
To see in all directions at the same time.
Oh what a beautiful view,
If you were never aware of what's around you.
~ Death Cab for Cutie
To see in all directions at the same time.
Oh what a beautiful view,
If you were never aware of what's around you.
~ Death Cab for Cutie
187/365 : Friday
I treat myself to breakfast on Fridays. I tried a new place - ordered a sausage muffin and loved the decor. I was disappointed to discover a sausage muffin is not a muffin made of sausage, but actually an english muffin sandwich with sausage and cheese.
183/365 : Brandon
My youngest brother in his natural habitat. I love this picture, but part of me thinks portraits are easy to shoot in black and white.
182/365 : Old Zeus boy
My family dog is getting old. He has more and more white hair and can't jump like he did ten years ago.
180/365 : Anniversary
Andy and I celebrated our two year wedding anniversary. I ordered takeout from our favorite Thai place and we ate on the floor by candle light. Then we packed at the last minute for our trip to Boston!
179/365 : Blue skies
View from Twin Peaks of the fog settling into the city at sundown. I love this city and I love the fog.
178/365 : I just wanna see some palm trees
Originally uploaded by mandy kaotik
Leave the fire behind
Swim out past the breakers
Watch the world die
~ Everclear
177/365 : Miniature
Mini lighthouse at a mini golf course in Santa Cruz, CA. I love the beach and already have special place in my heart for Santa Cruz.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
175/365 : Still life
An old phone corner in the hallway of my apartment - the perfect perch for a cat.
173/365 : Mountain of delicious
Or a sope - my new favorite Mexican dish. Some sort of cake topped with meat, beans, tomatoes, avocado, and cheese.
166/365 : The view
View point in Marin, on the way from Stinson Beach back to San Francisco. can you spot Twin Peaks in the distance?
160/365 : The ground you walk
I caught this fellow slowllllly crossing the sidewalk on my way to work. I was inspired by a recent post on Shutter Sisters about stopping to look where we put our feet.
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