fresh.

I need a new space.

A new start.

A fresh page.

In a couple of weeks' time, I will be moving here.

It would be so lovely to see you.

it's a wonderful life!

Last year I watched It's A Wonderful Life for the first time and ever since it's made Christmas feel a little more special. It's been something extra to look forward to as November rolled around; another small thing I've wanted to share with my love and another new tradition I've wanted to start.

So yesterday we found ourselves, on a double date, grabbing the last few seats at our favourite city cinema. I was the only one who'd seen it before and I was nervous. I simply wanted everyone to like it. 

(And the old man we talked to outside the cinema did, too. James Stewart, he told us, was his absolute idol, coincidentally stationed in our city during the war).

They fell in love with it, of course. Who wouldn't? It is frilled with magic and I don't think it ever, really, dates.

Last night I didn't think I was going to cry, either. But I did. At exactly the same scene as last year--and probably next year, too.

(Picture credit).

oh, christmas tree!

I loved the tree Arnold and I made so much that I had to make my own.

It's the perfect little place to display those tiny decorations I have collected over the years.

...it's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas...

last week.

It's taken me a few days to catch up on the sleep I lost at the very tail end of last week. It was kind of a rush to get things done; to have assignments handed in and presents made and diaries pretty much cleared. (And maybe, just maybe, to have a whole gingerbread house collapse on my hand and a bus full of angry people scorn at my bags. Of presents.)

But I was lucky enough to spend Friday with a handful of my favourite ladies. We got to celebrate Christmas by cooking up a storm in their tiny galley kitchen and playing trivial pursuit around a table that barely fitted their front room. But d'you know what?

It was lovely. And very bittersweet.

I'd really, really like a Christmas every year with these girls.

(late) gratitude/(early) stress

I stayed up until four o'clock this morning, working on a short story for class.

...and then, when I woke up properly, I scrapped pretty much every word on the page. Or I altered it, somehow. (And so it turns out, 5000 word short stories really aren't my thing).

Tonight, in the shower, I convinced myself I'd missed a deadline.

...and then I double-checked. I hadn't. (And so it turns out, these early morning stresses really aren't my thing).

I have never stressed this much about work and so I can't figure out if I am totally over this whole university thing or deeply, deeply in love with it. But I think having the opportunity at all is a pretty wonderful thing. (I know it is).

As stressful and as frustrating as the last few weeks' have been, they have also been lovely. There has been a lot to write home about, you know. Like the warmest of snuggles and watching Elf with my sister, and last night, having the nicest conversation with a new, dear friend.

It's these things, these little things, that I'm holding pretty close right now.

on our first date of christmas...

...my true love made a tree!

Arnold and I might not have time to squeeze in the Twelve Dates of Christmas this year, but I love the idea nonetheless.

After weeks and weeks of me talking about the "rustic" Christmas tree I wanted to build, we finally did and - if I do say so myself - I think she's quite, quite beautiful.

It's coming by so soon... (Too soon?)

my happy place.

This is putting a very, very big smile on my face right now.

That, and a certain boy's forgiveness.

x

scarlet, rosewood, carmine.

Gift-guides are pretty big right now, aren't they?

I love them. I absolutely love them.

So for a few days, in between stressing about impending (self-imposed) deadlines and seeing friends and family, I've toyed with the idea of creating my own. But calling it a gift-guide seemed a little too bold, you know?

So for now I'll call it a (small) collection. A snapshot of the material things I've seen, lately. Organised by colour. (Because I couldn't possibly think of any other way).

So, I give you...

...scarlet, rosewood and carmine.

1.Esme Velvet Cat Slippers. (I might have put these on my Christmas list already).

2. Gingerbread House kit.

3. Scottie Clutch bag. (They also do shoes!).

4. Padded Polar Bear tree decoration.

5. Polka Dot Recipe Box.

6. Fairisle Cardigan. (I love the little collar!)

7. DKNY Red Delicious fragrance.

xx

a thought

I can't quite put my finger on it; can't quite find it's placing, but something about today was bittersweet.

Was it--is it?--because I see the end so clearly, now? Less than six months and this little run of academia will be over. It will be turned on its head; stored away; preserved in the pocket of my early, early twenties. And I still haven't ascertained how I feel about that. About whether or not I'll continue or whether this time will--first--freeze, then melt into the remaining phases of my life. But it's there. This want to catch every comfortable moment I can. This want to store and treasure and preserve those snatched conversations in seminar rooms and a (mostly) shared, and gripping, passion for a subject.

Just a thought.

i'd like to, please

Hope #27.

Build a gingerbread house.

I am so excited about this that I might even make two this year.

(My I'd Like To, Please posts are inspired by Someday Hopes. And the picture can be found here!)

~

Psst. I cannot even begin to think about how I am going to fit everything in over the next few weeks. I have reading to be done and essays to be written and presents to be made. (The latter is shaping up to be a ridiculous fantasy, I think). But I need to do these things well, and at the same time, I intend to soak up as much festive spirit as I can. I look forward to this time of year more than any other--but as I get older, I start seeing the stress of it. The pace and the speed of time. It's the same for everybody, right? How do you manage?

I hope to post festively as frequently as I can--maybe, just maybe, some holiday gift-guides!--and in the mean-time, you can always check out my holiday inspired Pinterest board.

shelf space (II)

At the weekend, this happened:

But it's okay.

Because somewhere between the midnight of Saturday night and the lunchtime of Sunday morning, I found the time to do this:

That wall of books is so very nearly mine.

And I forgot just how cleansing it can be; to re-order and move and clean.

So now I sleep facing the window, instead of beside it. And now those little gaps in my shelves--the ones I have almost made purposeful--are a sure, sure reason to buy more books, no?

lately

I haven't been that in to blogging, lately. I haven't really felt that much into anything at all.

But I thought I'd do a little re-cap. (Like this!)

Lately.

Wednesday afternoons, between 2 and 3pm, have been my constants. I get to place that big, barrow of worry somewhere tangible. And it's a little ropey, really; it's hurting a little more; frustrating patience I didn't believe I had. And sometimes it feels like it will take years--and sometimes it feels like that big, deep breath will clear it. But it's continuing. And throughout the rest of the week, I've been keeping my fingers crossed; hopeful that this might just be the week of progression.

Lately.

Peppermint hot chocolates are my guilty, guilty pleasures.

Lately.

I spend my reading time between Gothic horror novels and picture books. It's a questionable balance, I have to say.

Lately.

I've been listening to the She and Him Christmas album. But hearing anything faintly 'holiday' brings me to tears if I'm in a shop.

Lately.

My fears are developing; mutating; strengthening. And it's a little sad.

Lately.

It's been wintry, here. So I'm thankful for my duvet and my increasing collection of woolly sweaters.

Lately.

I've had a headache and a stomachache and a tiredness that I just can't seem to shake.

Lately.

I've been avoiding yoga and I shouldn't be. I take a vow to commit to it, next week. (Again).

Lately.

Family has been important and rallying. And I'm grateful--so very, very grateful--that my Dad was secure and safe because of it.

Lately.

There is so much on at the cinema that I just want to see. This week I hope to see The Future. (Quite an apt sentence, if ever I saw one).

What have you been up to, lately?

xx

the first of many

My first big (scary) batch of assignments are this close to being finished for the semester. There are two to follow a little before Christmas but I am so, so relieved these ones are over. I made the tasks more difficult for myself by choosing ridiculous topics (wordless picture books) or opting for the creative over the critical (I've pretty much trained my critical brain, and the creative one, the one that wants to prosper and thrive in this life, becomes terrified in the face of a numerical mark).

So. To round off the rest of the week, I'm looking forward to...

...tidying my large, large mess of a room...

...making caramel apples...

...riding a steam train!...

...doing a little vintage/antique shopping...

...baking pumpkin cupcakes...

...sewing (so many presents left to make!)...

and

...taking time to breathe and savour the season...

What is everyone else up to this week?

i'd like to, please

Hope #26.

Adopt a kitty.

Like Nessie. She's a beauty.

(I'd Like To, Please posts are inspired by Someday Hopes--a blog that cherishes life's little bucket dreams. The above picture is from here).

the arrival

I fully regret putting off my work and not doing it sooner. But I just wanted to pop in and share a book I have been obsessing over for the last couple of weeks.

When I bought it for my course, this semester, I begrudged the money on a book I never thought I'd read again. It simply didn't appeal to me--it didn't excite or enthral or even, really, intrigue me. But my, it is beautiful. It is so incredibly skilful and artistic and emotional. And it will sit on my shelf, as one of my favourite books, for a very, very long time.

Did I mention that it's completely wordless?

Breathtaking. So absolutely breathtaking.

You can see more about it--including lots more of its illustrations!--here. And toward the bottom of the page there is a pretty brilliant and insightful article by its (very genius) author, Shaun Tan.

x

i'd like to, please

Hope #25.

Send more snail mail.

Especially love letters.

(My I'd Like To, Please posts are inspired by this little blog here. They're part of my plan to make-up Mondays. And the above picture I first saw here, on We Heart It).

this week

This past week has been difficult. (And to be honest, so, too, have its predecessors). I've been a little floored by anxiety and lethargy and a poor, poor diet. So now I'm a little sick. And a little tired. And facing the huge, huge mountain of the things I need to (essays, emails, yoga)--and the things I want to (baking, crafting, yoga)--do. I suppose that's simply what this time of year entails, right? (Belated) Fresher's flu and a little bit of stress?

But I'm promising myself that if I get those things done--primarily the necessary things--then I'll have a little reward come Monday. And my reward, this time of year, is a look forward to Christmas. And to a little Halloween party with my love.

The funny thing is--the lethargy and the numbness, aside--that I was really looking forward to heading to the library this morning. Forcing my mind into books and working on something--manipulating words and locating meaning. I guess I'm realising just how precious this time is; how these days of student life--of a beautiful, beautiful opportunity to learn and graze--are limited. Sadly so.

I'm hoping that one day soon I can coerce that appreciation into a way of negating the fear. Because it's paralysing, sometimes. And, all too often, it needs that little push of perspective.

In the mean-time this is, for the most part, what my weekend will look like.

And I'll be listening to this--largely as a pre-emptive step towards their Christmas album next week.

And--finally--I'll be crossing my fingers. Just because.

What are you doing, this weekend?

the violet

I wrote a little something for the Fall issue of The Violet.

I think this magazine is quite, quite marvellous. It champions everything I think a women's magazine should--so please, please check it out. It will have you baking and decorating and--I am convinced--taking good care of yourself this fall.

on catching up

I wrote this last night, awake into the small hours of the morning. I'm not sure how clear it is or what, really, I wanted it to frame. But it is written, and because I am intent on tracking this little life of mine, it is here.

So.

-

My Monday morning meetings are now my Wednesday afternoons. And they are exactly the same, but for the sideways step into the mid-week.

Counselling is a curious thing. A thing so unpredictable. Every week I find myself balled up with a flash of pre-emptive nerves: I am at a complete loss of what to say--of how and where and why I am to begin. But as soon as I step into that little rented office, there is a movement. A tumbling, somersaulting collapse of words I never dared to speak, and thoughts I never knew I had, and images I didn't know I visualised. And within an hour they become palpable; they are words spoken by myself, then reflected back, and they are--perhaps most importantly--to the conscience of another.

It is undoubtedly that reflection that I find the most helpful. Not just my own isolation of thought and feeling--but the retorts and the comments that they feed. I got lucky with Joan--so, extremely lucky. She is reflective and compassionate in the ways that I need--more than that, though, she is empathic. It seems a little silly, now, having spent a few months with her, but I never expected empathy--never expected someone to care as much, or as understandingly. And today of all days, I was blown away by that. Blown away by her intuition and her--I suppose her sense of nurturing. She is attune, now, to the way I speak and to noticing the precipice: that split-second moment before my cheeks dampen with a little too much emotive cause. What struck me today was this sense of intimacy--this knowledge that this woman knows more about me, now, than most people ever will. She sees more depth and expulsion of thought than I ever understand. It is bewildering, in some ways. Strange and confusing to know that I will one day walk out of her office and that distance that we first had will somehow resume. We will become strangers, again. It sounds strangely romantic, doesn't it? That if I hadn't slotted in that word--that ugly, stigmatic word: counselling--an understanding of this "intimacy" would connote another attachment--an entirely different connection. There is no resolution to me explaining this--not really. It is just an observation of this strangely disorientating process.

And as a process, it is halting. In July I felt a bigger kind of shift. A bigger, easier stretch where the patches of light reached, and the roots uplifted themselves--they grew. Now there is a much greater frustration. A kind of expectation that has been left to fall and really, it has crashed. But Joan reminds me every week that this is what the process is about. It is a kind of convolution: a rise followed by a fall. I haven't felt a rise in a while. But it will come. I know in my heart it will come--a small one, at first. It will become like an opened door that is left ajar, just a crack. And if I didn't believe this--and if I didn't want to welcome this with widely opened arms--I would not go every week. I would not filter up the labyrinthine steps or into the green-housed glass of an office Joan rents. I would not open my mouth to speak or accept tissues or leave, swallowing a breath.

So--and this is just to let you know--I'm ready for that gap. Ready to squint my eyes through the crack of the door and search some more. Ready to see what that little light illuminates, again.

comfort

I don't feel I've posted much other than lists, lately. But it's late on a Tuesday night and things feel a little stressful and a little stretched--and, frankly, why break this little trend of mine right now?

So things that are bringing comfort to me this week are:

dinner out with friends

(because it's nice to giggle at the little things and the snippets we have shared)

kitty cuddles

(because this little girl fell asleep on my lap last week, and I cannot wait to see her soon)

woolly jumpers and thick coats

(because they are making me feel so cosy in these early morning winds)

moleskine notebooks

(because they make organising effortless)

opportunity

(because having so many and so much might be terrifying, but my, I am grateful for it)

friendship in and of itself

(because spying two old men meeting for the first time, in kindness, warms the very fibre of my heart)

and

moments of clarity

(because they might be few and far between--but when they come, they make breath reach deeper into my lungs)

Where are you turning to for reassurance, this week?