receipt scribble

things found in my bag on busted up crinkled pieces of scratch paper and receipts

Sunday, November 13, 2011

mind chatter.


there is a silent commotion in my head.
a fight is about to break out

over body and mind.
over yes, to appropriate no's.
over feeding the whim to starving the brat.
over perfunctory ennui to the battle of happiness.

to act, and to also BE.

to speak and to also BE.

and to also BE.

"i dare you to move".

Friday, August 19, 2011

the common good


I have a new favorite album for the time being.

100 Lovers by Devotchka.

The most beautiful piece of art I have recently laid ears on.
My favorite song is "Bad Luck Heels."

Do yourself a favor. Get this album.

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

recently.

bit of Buddha.


Recently, I have found a very strong interest in the teachings of The Buddha.

I'd like to periodically share them with you.
"
Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment."


Be HERE. NOW.

Take a deep breath. Doesn't that feel good? Look around you at the colors exploding into your eyes to be eaten alive by your brain, and almost forgotten. The smells, the feeling of your clothes, the cool air on your skin. Even your fingertips beg for attention. While eating, really focus on the textures and the tastes and how great your belly feels as its filling up.

We are so fortunate. So blessed. To have these senses and be completely conscious of them.

Also, do not make to-do lists... the kind that you must finish before you can be happy. Be happy while you do them. Be happy with all of your small victories. Be relaxed. Be present.

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

one of my favoritas


I really like the spanish language. And I really like poetry. And to combine them there is the great and prolific Pablo Neruda who makes my heart swell in my chest. He paints with words, the most beautiful things.

This is one of my favorites.


"Si Tu Me Olvidas"
By Pablo Neruda
En Español:
(In Spanish)

Quiero que sepas
una cosa.

Tú sabes cómo es esto:
si miro
la luna de cristal, la rama roja
del lento otoño en mi ventana,
si toco
junto al fuego
la impalpable ceniza
o el arrugado cuerpo de la leña,
todo me lleva a ti,
como si todo lo que existe:
aromas, luz, metales,
fueran pequeños barcos que navegan
hacia las islas tuyas que me aguardan.

Ahora bien,
si poco a poco dejas de quererme
dejaré de quererte poco a poco.

Si de pronto
me olvidas
no me busques,
que ya te habré olvidado.

Si consideras largo y loco
el viento de banderas
que pasa por mi vida
y te decides
a dejarme a la orilla
del corazón en que tengo raíces,
piensa
que en esa día,
a esa hora
levantaré los brazos
y saldrán mis raíces
a buscar otra tierra.

Pero
si cada día,
cada hora,
sientes que a mí estás destinada
con dulzura implacable,
si cada día sube
una flor a tus labios a buscarme,
ay amor mío, ay mía,
en mí todo ese fuego se repite,
en mí nada se apaga ni se olvida,
mi amor se nutre de tu amor, amada,
y mientras vivas estará en tus brazos
sin salir de los míos.


And in Ingles

"If You Forget Me"
By Pablo Neruda
In English:
(En Inglés)

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists:
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loveing me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

Monday, June 27, 2011

i'm so awesome

Yes.
This is a post to let everyone know how awesome I am. And I'm not even being sarcastic.

Yesterday, on my way home from work I started thinking about this. My awesome-ness.
And I have a feeling that you can relate.
I'm talking about our small victories. You know the ones. When someone throws something to you, and you catch it. And in your head you're like "yeah! good job, Natalie! you caught those keys! You're awesome!". and the person who threw it to you barely seemed to notice how awesome you were for catching them.

Or when you clean something at work, or home or wherever. You spend a good half hour DETAILING some area that has been needing some serious attention for weeks, and it doesn't seem like anyone else even cares or notices, so you are the bigger person. You are awesome. And you attack that mess of a space and after you are done with it, its sparkling. And no one seems to care or notice. But YOU know that you are awesome. And you know how much better your existence makes your surrounding areas.

Or when you show up to work not feeling well. You've got this terrible headache, or you're hungover, or so tired you're eyes won't stay open without maximum force...
but you showed up. Like the awesome person you are! And with minimal complaints, you work, and earn your awesome wages and go home, and when you get home, you know how awesome you are. And how most of the people you work with are pansies, and they totally would have called in... but not you. Champion of a human being that you are.

Or when you have strong intent to eat healthier. You rack the aisles of the grocery store for those natural organic things that aren't entirely appealing but you're taking them home anyway. When its lunchtime, you deliberately put broccoli in your velveeta shells and cheese. No. Not because you like broccoli... because you don't. Its nasty. But because you are an adult now. And what adult doesn't like vegetables? Yeah. Grow up. So you eat it. And you eat the shells first, saving the broccoli for last, but you're going to eat it.. you really are. there. You ate it. Because you are healthy and awesome. Now go cut up some more fresh veggies for a snack. but don't forget the ranch.

Or when you do something you really don't want to do for someone else. And how its not even a big deal to them that you're doing it, and in someway they are kind of expecting it. But YOU know how big of an inconvenience it is. You know what you are sacrificing... that your favorite show starts in 5 minutes, and driving an extra 5 minutes out of your way to give someone a ride home is making it so you're missing the first 5 (or possibly up to 7 minutes of that show.) You might even walk in during the first set of commercials which is a big deal. So you philanthropic angel, you.
You will continue doing these darling things for other people, but only because you know... just how awesome it makes you.

Or when something breaks, and you accidentally were born a woman. I know. How awful for you, I think you're awesome already just for being a woman. But the drain in the ice fountain isn't working. Or the beer keg needs changing. And these are things that women shouldn't be doing. Well, not 'shouldn't' they just can't. They are frail, fragile little things that might break if they exert effort towards anything.
But you know you are awesome. So you pick up that beer keg warding off the advances for assistance from all of the fellows around you... you know you can do this. You've got it in the bag. You have saved the day. Even though you are only a woman.
And yes. No one seems to notice or care that you did not illicit the assistance of a man... but you know you did not. And for this... you know you are awesome.

And by 'you' I mean "I".



Now.
Tell me how you know YOU are awesome.

Friday, June 24, 2011

Ode to Pine Valley





On Wednesday, I went to see my parents in Pine Valley.

I'm no stranger to the beauty of that place. The 'rents have lived there for quite a few years now, and I used to take the drive up every sunday to see them. And even when I lived in Cedar, I made the trek a few times.
After Cedar, I actually moved in to this tiny little house that suited me perfect.

This place is ridiculous.
In the summer, while 35 minutes away, people's faces are melting off from sweltering heat, up there its breezy and the perfect kind of warm. With a smell.... a smell of pine trees and sage and wildflowers and notes of cow poop that really doesn't mess with the more sweeter fragrances.
I would take bike rides to the mail box, almost every day and take it all in. Or sit on my porch admiring the wide expanse of a view. Or just wander around admiring old houses and funky shaped cabins.
At night, there are no street lights. It is dark. Not dark like you'd get down here in 'the city'. Dark like you don't understand until you see. Scary dark. But the stars become like glitter thrown on a dark blue carpet, and you can literally get sucked into them, even if your vision isn't enhanced by a mind altering substance.
In the winter, after it snows, you walk out your door into something like heaven I would imagine. Its so soft and so white that you almost feel like you should whisper.
It really is like some winter wonderland. Something out of a storybook. Something magical. And I don't like the snow, or the cold. But somehow, it would bring about some change in me. Some happy change.
In the fall the leaves change. Not like in St. George where the leaves are green. Then they start getting crusty. Then overnight they all fall off the trees at the same time and you're up to your knees in crusty green leaves. In Pine Valley, the most beautiful colors arise. Yellows and oranges and reds that almost make you think the sunset is reflecting off the trees in the mountain. Its something to see. Something to revel in. And not take pictures, because they don't turn out as vibrant and beautiful as your eyes see it. They never do. And then you show someone the photo, and you're telling them how retarded beautiful it was, and they just don't get it... so just keep in your head.
And in the summer its so much green that you're eyes don't know what to do with it.
Way too much green. But if it were any less it wouldn't be so beautiful.

Sometimes I wish I wouldn't have hastily decided to move back down here. While I'm so grateful to live so close to work, and friends, and boyfriend, sometimes I long for the quiet, lovely, little house in such a lovely little town. Protected and blanketed by strong, helpful mountains. The ones that let the wind build up and whistle. And make your nose grateful. And your eyes.

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Read this.


I just started reading Catch 22 by Joseph Heller. This book is going to be hilarious.
Here are a few samples of funny I've already stumbled upon.

"The Texan turned out to be good-natured, generous and likable. In three days no one could stand him."

"He decided to live forever or die in the attempt"

"I've got these rubber models in my office with all the reproductive organs of both sexes that I keep locked up in separate cabinets to avoid a scandal"

"Racial prejudice is a terrible thing, Yossarian. It really is. It's a terrible thing to treat a decent, loyal Indian like a nigger, kike wop or spic."

""Sure, that's what I mean," Doc Daneeka said. "A little grease is what makes this world go round. One hand washes the other. Know what I mean? You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours."
Yossarian knew what he meant.
"That's not what I meant," Doc Daneeka said, as Yossarian began scratching his back. "I'm talking about co-operation. Favours. You do a favour for me, I'll do one for you. Get it?"
"Do one for me," Yossarian requested.
"Not a chance," Doc Daneeka answered."

Read this book with me!

Monday, June 20, 2011



Read this book.
Its a very easy read. Written simply, but with very beautiful fluidity and with every line an undertone of poetry.
Also, its funny, and heartfelt.
Now I want to read her other books.

Saturday, June 18, 2011

that summer smell gets in.
leaks in.
with a tap of your foot to the beat
a nod of your head
accidentally with the rhythm.
a smile
a nostalgic sigh.
18 and barefoot and dancing
like some crazy hippie freak.
there it is.
we found it.
now bring it back.

my poor hair.


Today, my hair is brown. Yesterday it was a rusty-orange-red-pinkish color that made my eyes bleed. After making the trek through the rows of things I don't need but will probably buy at Walmart, and after spending a good half hour staring at all of my possible options in the boxed hair dye aisle, and after finally choosing a light brown shade and making my way to the register before changing my mind, I came to the realization that my hair is my punching bag.

In all of the most dissatisfied times in my life my hair color changes most frequently.

I've been every color imaginable. I'm sure my sister could show you pictures when I had "June" lipstick (you won't get that) and seriously YELLOW hair. Like Barbie. I've been browns, blondes, oranges, fire engine reds, black, combinations of all of those, ashy, golden, and mousy shades of all of the above. My hair has at one point been the consistency of a stretchy cotton ball.
My hair has taken the heat...
Its all because... when I feel trapped, or unable to change my present life situation, I change my hair. When I want to shut the door on relationships, but feel I can't. When I want to never show up for work again, but know I can't. When I want to move to Mexico, just for a month or two, but am fully aware that I can't. I know i CAN change the color of my hair. And I will. And I do. I can be a different person tomorrow, than I am today, just from the color of my hair.