Author: vanessa joie

i love love!

February 15, 2011


i know i’m a day late but i’ve been sick. i hope you had a beautiful day filled with love – whether it’s romantic, friend, family, nature, music, puppy, kitty, artistic. whatever it is i hope you love you!

and here’s a little more belated valentine’s day love:

i wish i’d thought of this

a new hoodie with a wee heart from max wanger

in the running for the world’s greatest love story (thanks for tweeting annabela)

a little baby/belly love song from rachel and grant to their little one.

red + pink + white on hi + low (thanks for the link bri

and ps,

thanks for the heartfelt comments to my very frustrated, not so attractive post. a good friend reminded me of a favorite quote: “Comparison is the thief of joy.” hands off my joy universe!

photo by jen gotch

emmadime

February 10, 2011

i am so in love with Emma’s knitted goodies. i have the big red bow and i LOVE it. i wore it three days in a row – work, church, and everwhere else. if that’s not love i don’t know what is. now i need one in every color and the bow tie and the bow scarf and basically anythign else she makes. and she has a blog. and she has prettier handwriting than me. and she’s basically awesome.

progress or a lack thereof

February 9, 2011

“Don’t feel sorry for yourself. Only assholes do that.” – Haruki Murakami

i’m going to risk looking like an a*hole and write this anyway. sorry.

lately i’ve had a difficult time blogging because i’ve been wanting to avoid what has actually been on my mind. but after a few weeks of “sitting on it” i’m just putting it out there in the hopes of getting it off my chest and having done with it. feel free to vacate the premises. and if you do read i fear you will realize what a selfish, ungrateful, miserable person i am capable of being. really unattractive, i know – so i’ll just apologize now with the hope that you’ll forgive me.

i like my life. a lot, actually. but i also feel like in one particular area of life i’m stuck. i don’t like being stuck. i need progress and change to feel like things and life is moving forward, developing, growing. lately it’s a constant inner battle – fighting to stay positive, not to give into wallowing (is that what i’m doing right now? sorry), to not act like a jealous 5 year old. i have so much to be grateful for that it’s silly to focus on what i don’t have and to let it drive me crazy. i feel like this week especially it’s taken extra energy not to compare my life with other’s or to become resentful or basically be such a big baby.

long walks and fresh air help. harlow helps. and when all else fails a little drive and a little cry in my car where no one can see helps. i’m working on it.

or maybe i just need a little fairy dust.
Photobucket

even if i could

February 8, 2011


a found a couple old books of poetry in a box that i haven’t seen since high school i’d forgotten how much they’d meant to me during that part of my life. here is one i read during “raw talent” at a little cafe in town many moons ago. you have no idea what a “hippie” i used to be. i’d like to think i still am a little. maybe one day i’ll show you my first car that my friend named “the grateful bean”… you have no idea. anyway, here is the poem that i loved enough to read in front of the world.

Even If I Could by C.K. Williams

Except for the little girl making faces behind me, and the rainbow behind her,
and the school and the truck, the only thing between you and infinity is me.
Which is why you cover your ears when I speak and why you’re always oozing around the edges,
clinging, trying to go by me. And except for my eyes and the back of my skull,
and then my hair, the wall, the concrete and the fire-cloud, except for them you would see God.
And that’s why rage howls in your arms like a baby and why I can’t move-
because of the thunder and the shadows merging like oil
and the smile gleaming through the petals.
Let me tell you how sick with loneliness I am. What can I do while the distance throbs
on my back like a hump, or say, with stars stinging me through the wheel?
You are before me, behind me things rattle their deaths out like paper.
The angels ride in their soft saddles:
except for them, I would come closer and go.

how to feel miserable

February 8, 2011

wintersunset

i found a list awhile ago called “how to feel miserable as an artist”… but i think it can apply to to any aspect of life. so here is an edited version of that list that i’m going to tape to my wall/mirror/forehead until it sinks in.

1. constantly compare yourself to others
2. talk to your family about what you do/want to do and expect them to cheer you on.
3. base the success of your life on one single aspect of life
4. stick with what you know
5. undervalue yourself
6. let money dictate what you do
7. give in to society’s pressures
8. only do things that you know other people will love
9. always do what other people expect of you
10. set unachievable goals that must be accomplished immediately.

photo by me

adopt rinah

February 5, 2011

I don’t know Carissa or Andrew or Rinah but I’ve read their tweets and posts about their journey to bring little Rinah into their family and it warms my heart. Hooray for a little more love in the world.

little letters

January 27, 2011

Dear friends,
Thanks for the solidarity after yesterday’s mean commenter.

Dear anonymous,
I’m sorry if you feel you are in some way obligated to read my blog. Feel free to mosey along.

Dear Trader Joe’s,
I love you!

Dear coca-cola,
I’m not at all sorry I gave into you this week. I needed you.

Dear sleep,
I need more of you.

Dear taxes,
Do yourself.

Dear cobb salads,
You are my new favorite thing.

Dear American Idol,
I just can’t get into you. You just aren’t as much fun without Billie & Brian.

Dear self,
Get your rear in gear and start making decisions.

Dear Australia,
See you in November!

Dear Harlow,
Thanks for being my dog.

photo credit

make me shine

January 25, 2011

I’ve really been learning that I have to choose to believe that it is not my clothes or my hair or my makeup that is going to make me shine.
-Bethany Galeotti