the one hour dress
Recently I’ve been spending a lot of time on the internet. Let me clarify that. I’ve been spending more time on the internet than usual, which was already a lot. It’s not good. I mean, hey, I love the internet as much as the next girl, but things have gone overboard and I can feel it. It’s a double edged sword for me, as I have a really difficult time connecting to people in real life (one day I will write something about this introversion and shyness…one day…), and the web gives me a way to have social interaction. Such a conundrum.
Lately though, I just feel drained. I feel as if it is literally sucking the life and creativity out of me. My motivation has been lost somewhere in the ether to twitter and instagram and it makes me feel like I am no longer myself.
I’m taking a step away from the computer as much as possible, and diving into other things, into making and creating and contemplating.
I came across this pattern for a one hour dress and I thought it would be ideal to get me on the path away from the virtual and back to the real. It was indeed, as this simple one hour dress turned into a much much larger project (I stopped keeping track of how long it took after hour 4). Working at my sewing machine, I felt energized, and even with my mistakes and missteps, I forged onward, until it was done, and I was happy. I found a certain level of gratification in making something utilitarian like a dress that can be worn regularly.
It’s nothing particularly fancy, but it’s exactly the style I like. It’s comfortable. It has pockets. Most importantly, I made it. That in itself brings me a lot of satisfaction.
This weekend I hope to step away from the allure of the internet and continue to make things or simply enjoy a quite walk outdoors. I hope you’ll join me.
*I thought I should add that I do clearly see how it might seem hypocritical to write about getting away from the web on a blog, but my trouble lays in the consumption rather than what I put out there. It’s easy to get sucked into social media and arguments and articles, whereas my blog is my own space.
ice cream snowballs
One of the people I’m saddest I never was able to meet is Shawn’s mother, Sharon. She passed away a few years before Shawn and I met, and though I was never able to know her, I feel that she still has an impact on our life together. Shawn always tells me stories about her and it’s easy to see how much she did for her five children. She was a talented cook and went out of her way to make celebrations special. When Shawn and some of his siblings went vegan, she would adapt her recipes to make vegan versions.
Often times, Shawn will tell me something she used to make and we’ll try to recreate it. These snowballs fall into that category. A simple to assemble treat that is exponentially more tasty because it is fun to eat. With warmer weather rolling around (maybe?) I can see we’ll be making more of these.
Start with a scoop of your favorite non-dairy ice cream.
Roll it around in some coconut. Use your hands. It’s not even that messy.
Place on a cookie sheet and freeze for 10-30 minutes. That’s it! You now have a snowball.
Now personally, I’m not a fan of coconut, but I didn’t want to be left out of the snowball fun, so I made some “dirty snowballs” with crumbled cookies instead.
Perfect.
Thank you Sharon for still being an inspiration, even though we never met. Mostly though, thank you for raising such an amazing son who I adore so much.
primo passo
This past week I was able to visit the new Primo Passo Coffee Company on the west side. It’s a beautifully modern space with delicious coffee. I was pleased with the subtle flavors of their espresso. I’ve notice recently that coffee roasters have edged towards more bold brews to make their coffee stand out, ranging from strong citrus notes to intense woodsy flavors. My latte from primo passo, on the other hand, had a delicate blend of flavors that make it enjoyable the whole way through. Beyond just good coffee, I loved the open design of the space and hope to visit there often. And now, I think I’ll go have another cup of coffee.
journaling
It probably comes as no surprise that I’ve been an obsessive journaler for most of my life. The tendency crept in in middle school and just stuck around for those tumultuous years following. Truth be told, my first real journal was not a book, it was my computer. I was trying to work some things out and thought it best I write it down, while simultaneously, I thought it was time I learned to type properly. Thus, my first journal was born in a word document (maybe it wasn’t word back then, but I forget to be honest). Subsequently I filled many composition books and spiral notebooks with the mundane details of my life and tons of teenage drama.
Then I found livejournal. Were you on livejournal? I feel like so many of us were. At first the concept of others reading my own personal thoughts didn’t occur to me, it was just like my computer journal, except stored secretly online. Over the years, connections were made and it became a way to vent as well as bond with others. I still had a paper journal, but the online one was something different, more careful and stylized and intentional. When an ex-boyfriend read one of my journals, livejournal became a safe place with its password protected private posts.
I guess now I’ve grown out of journaling. My life no longer has the drama worthy of writing about. Of course, there is this blog, which takes care of some of it. A fancy highlight version of life, with a few oblique references to internal struggles. That’s not to say I don’t sometimes miss journaling, but mostly I miss livejournal itself, the endless melodramatic posts and conversations they sometimes spurred. I do not, on the other hand, miss the times I wrote about, and am thus much happier to be without it.
My livejournal has since been deleted, fearing someone might find it and connect it to me. Before I disposed of it forever, I made a backup and years later, inspired by a friend, I finally decided to have it printed into a book so it would not be entirely lost.
It took a few hours to format everything into a printable version and then cost about $15 to have it printed. Now it can get stored away with the others serving no purpose at all, except that I have it. It’s not recommended reading. The bits I skimmed as I edited were so depressingly embarrassing they made me cringe. Reading things you wrote in college is not a good idea. That being said, I’m glad to have a physical copy even if it is only to be burned before my death or something along those lines.
The Source
One of my favorite films from SXSW this year was the documentary The Source. It recounts the rise and fall of the Los Angeles commune lead by Father Yod and of course, their Hollywood vegetarian restaurant. This film had such an impact on me, I think partially because of the outstanding archive of film and photos from the era used in the film, devotedly saved by Isis Aquarian, one of Father Yod’s 13 wives. These images were able to breath life into the stories told by the members of the Aquarian family. The film was also soundtracked by the music recorded by the family back in the 70’s, further transporting the viewer into their world.
The other thing that struck me about this film was that years later, many of the members still held Father Yod and their time with the Aquarian family in high esteem. Whereas we’re led to believe that so many communes of the time are horrible, brainwashing cults, The Source allows us to see beyond the stereotypes. Those who came to Father Yod and the The Source restaurant were looking for something, and for many of them, they found the spiritual practice they were seeking. That’s not to say that everything was perfect, which is clearly shown in the heartache of Father Yod’s first wife, as the laws of their life together change during the groups development.
I found this film utterly fascinating and was completely drawn into the story of each family member they spoke with. This was one of the films that sparked my thoughts in this post. It was captivating to see the evolution of the group from it’s humble beginnings to it’s dramatic end.
If you are in San Francisco, I highly recommend catching a screening of The Source at the San Francisco International Film Festival at the end of April. You can get tickets here. If not, keep your eye out for a screening near you.
