le fin du septembre

September 30, 2008 Candace Morris 7 Comments

1. Sept 23 - office reverie, 2. Sept 23 - the work room, 3. Sept 23 - a copy of a copy, 4. Sept 23 - a blur of daily elevation, 5. Sept 24 - attempting the ascent, 6. Sept 24 - a deliberate reach, 7. Sept 24 - laisser aller, 8. Sept 25 - du temps en temps, 9. Sept 28 - 2:37, 10. Sept 28 - supplication in sephia, 11. Sept 28, 12. sept 28 - an evening in grandma's chair, 13. Sept 30 - orange sprouts and hopeful thoughts

something has happened to my eye in this exercise.
mine eyes see me in a different way.
it marks me, tells me i have lived and
am living.

even when no one is looking but me.

thank you umberdovely.
what's next? :)

in other news,
my day was rough beginnings (had anxiety, stayed home, you know the drill) but i worked well at home today and joelio-eh-oh came home early to sit with me a while. i took one of those long showers where you carefully remove all the shame and guilt via exfoliation and repeat your friends' words "be good to yourself."
and i was.

joel and i managed to go through lots of boxes in an effort to move them into a real storage space located OFF SITE, and sold $16 worth of books and VHS tapes to Half Price Books...and then promptly marched to B&O for the lentil soup. It was like books paid for dinner.

Thanks for the date, books.
Maybe you will get lucky later.
But for now,
I am off to scald myself in hot water.

so now i put to bed day 2 of experiment.


an experiment

September 29, 2008 Candace Morris 3 Comments

call me marie curie...
but this week, crm is in a beaker.
i am going to try a little experiment.

every weeknight this week, i am going to take a sort of sabbatical.
by some miraculous act of god or nature, i have zero social events on my calendar this week.
so, as an exercise in a life of simplicity and solitude, i will keep it that way - even if something spontaneous comes up.

sorry if you were planning on showing up with a bottle of wine and taking me shopping, but i have to pass until next week (when you, of course, do the exact same thing!).

this doesn't come out of a desire to be alone or even feeling like i have been too "social." in fact, i feel the opposite...and this is what scares me. i always think i am doing so well, and in those seasons of vivaciousness forget to give myself equal amounts of solitude...and not just solitude, but soulful solitude...but more on that later.

i think i have forgotten how to be alone...and be alone well. in the opportunities i have been given since living in our new place (6 months already!), i have felt very strangely without joel and have digressed into dark and frustrating places. in a effort to recapture my bliss and soul within that alone time, i think i need a bit more practice...but WITH joel around (he doesn't count as much for alone time...) in order to keep me from falling off the precipice of my introversion in an unhealthy way. let me tell you, for such an independent lass, i sure have become attached to that guy...

so here goes. a week of crm.

tonight was day one:
  • i got to sit and read for 45 minutes in the gentle 6pm sunlight as joel made a lovely garden meal from produced fresh-picked yesterday at his parent's house. he made homemade garlic focaccia bread, and then sauteed beet greens, swiss chard, and beets atop turmeric rice. we also opened a bottle of wine from our cellar...and it was lovely, but...
  • even after such a lovely meal, we both still felt cross and a bit sour. we decided to take an urban walk.
  • we walked up the five blocks to grab a cup of coffee/tea (can you guess who had what?), and stroll by a new restaurant wherein joel said "next date!."
  • we kept walking towards St. Mark's Cathedral and looked at some of the service times. Turns out there was a centering prayer (meditation) happening right then, so we stepped into the hushed cathedral and observed - both deciding to come back. That cathedral was heavy, hushed, and dark - so, so beautiful and calm.
  • we talked the 1.5 miles back via some gorgeous stairs (much easier going DOWN them) and daydreamed about owning a home someday...stopped in a garden for more than one lippy kiss.
  • favorite part of the conversation was when i mused about being alive in the 1800's wherein my day consists of wearing a lavish house-dress, latin lessons, piano lessons, painting lessons, horseback riding lessons...and all this before lunch. there must be a benefactor buzz going round the block.
  • we are back home now, and here is my view from the computer. sigh.
This is what I mean by soulful time at home, I guess. I am trying to use my alone time more deliberately instead of either vegging out at the computer or doing chores. I have only been really doing those two things at home, and at that prospect, who wouldn't be depressed? I have to shake myself of this boredom, grab a yoga class, and get on my application to grad school in Glasgow. (After all, their stock market didn't have it's largest drop in HISTORY today. I say it's time to get out!)

this is what my life will be like this week.
but i think it's gonna be good.
because i am getting a bit desperate.

evermore pensive,


putting sunday to bed.

September 28, 2008 Candace Morris 4 Comments

i had to wear lots of color today.
i had to curl my hair.
i had to escape my internal dialogue.
i had to cry when joel held me.
i had to have three helpings of rosemary bread and butter.
i had to learn to embrace this dark mood without the why.
i had to pick a huge beet and cut white dahlias.

i had to sit in grandma's chair.


ode to the day of days.

September 27, 2008 Candace Morris 5 Comments

we found a day to have an actual saturday.

lazy around the house

said goodbye to my friend frankie today

frankie, jess, and i at chez gaudy

A Photo Shoot
in the name of Saturday.
All can be seen here:


hope saturday has even the smallest tint of magic for you.


seeing how to let go.

September 25, 2008 Candace Morris 8 Comments

here i sit....face all tingly with new avada face wash, skin clean and tucked in for bed.
i sit on my blue wool couch from norway, right underneath the window.
i just got up and opened it - and got my chapstick and water.
sigh. deep, deep sigh.
that air smells so good.
drunken goblins walking by my house in giggle and booze...
ah, thursday night.

this is gonna be a long one. so grab your cozys and coffetea and sit with me a while.
i promise to go easy on you.

for though nature should never deign to equate she and i,
i desire for this to be a place for you that is much like the maple leaf that steals your breath as you walk home, or the tree whose eerie swaying of the wind makes your spirit wonder if you have company, or when you finally stop hearing the sound of your heels on concrete because you turned up goldfrapp way too loud and then saw the space needle between two buildings- and it surprised you with a strange sensation.

i think it's called joy.
or whatever.

i marvel at the human gift of vicariousness.
due to some cosmic crashes in my favor,
i now have women in my life unlike any women i have ever known.
and my thoughts go to them now:

i think of her with that enviable posture.
she's sitting on her crown of turquoise and orange
smelling the sweetness of her lighted candles in vigil, this waxen warmth easing her.
i hear her swirling sounds of clinky, patron-infused ice.
she finally let he
rself relax just one second ago.
i felt it.

her redwood exhale slithers in dichotomous mystery and warmth
through the night air to my window.

i am with her.

i thought of her while in the tub.
thinking of her grapes and loneliness.

feeling a pull inside to grab her child cheeks,
tell her that every little word she shares is so important
for so many people.

i channel her confidence.

knowing her restoration will come home soon and come home

i am with her aussi.

i jump a time zone;
i think of the red-streaked raven struggling to settle.

geisha light strokes her hair, shushing her into easier thoughts of herself.
her thoughts linger on dance, laughter, preparation, prayer.
she expels stress.

she misses,
she plans,
she is here and everywhere.
she waxes poesy.
i am also with her.

i think of my red...
nurtured finally by someone without question, without trial, without earning.
she doesn't have to think of anything but laughter, food, bosom, and booze.

i ache to give her the answers and paths, but she ends up
guiding me.
i can't seem to shake her. estoy con ella. siempre.


the week has been grity and murky for me.
obsessions stuck to my hypersensitive porcupine-skin and spewed their venom into my belly.
i beat them up with analysis and words.
they beat me up with their incessant insistence and gripping claws of death.

but today - because i stared it down yesterday with all the bravery my mustard sweater could, well...muster,
and just when it was beginning to end me,
it culminated into the most fundamental alchemic formula.
and i finally had an answer.

sheepish, childlike, chastised by the sheer simplicity of it;
my internal matriarch obese with the wisdom of her years.
i hear her tone.

can you imagine? me? me! the know it all - the "i know myself so well?"
i didn't even know i was hurt.
sometimes my analytic nerosis numbs those senses.
(and it's such a highly-evolved and clever defence mechanism, don't you think?)
i foolishly think i can counsel myself out of pain.
not so.
not so.
it MUST be STARED DOWN, felt, embraced...
and then bandaged with the most adorable and whimsical little band aid.
mine is called Maker's Mark.

so over a bottle, i have a date with my resentment.
i will sit with my soul, stare down my skin through the empty glass
all the way to bottom,
and exsponge the poison - suck out the disease of bitterness like a leech.

and though i cannot stomach (or should i say "liver") this just yet,
even the thought has brought the hint of release to the knot of obsession and anxiety.
i can tell.
i can feel it already.


something funny is happening with my vestiments.
i am putting together outfits that i always used to talk myself out of.

today, por ejemplo.
i, me, moi...for the FIRST time in history, wore TWO necklaces. I could tell that one looked WAY better than wearing the two, but something inside me screamed to wear both.

"Alright already, sheesh...I will wear both," I patronized.

Apparently, the wee little one inside needed to feel:
-like she was just a bit too much.

i released two.
i wore two.
oh the poetic symmetry.

coffeetea cold yet?
mine is.
fetch me a warm up, will ya ol' chap?

you're great company,


green begins to let go

September 24, 2008 Candace Morris 3 Comments

i feel pushed towards center.
her veins remind me
her prostration shows.
she was able to let go and be exactly what she was created to be.

a leaf.

attempting the ascent

above the manipulations
above the needs and over-eager eyes
facing what i cannot be.

laisser aller

i stare soul down.
once completed, i must be released.
help me let go.

happy wed evening.
i, for one, have a second to myself
i feel the weight of silence;
it calms me.
calmate, mi amor.
porque incluso después de un día como hoy,
you are still beautiful.



thereby recovering

September 23, 2008 Candace Morris 6 Comments

the work room

i am increasingly uncomfortable with how the worry and necessity of the physical world seem to positively choke every other thought i may have had today.

all yesterday, i was working on tidbits of a poem.
all this morning, money fucking stole it.
i am now left with a notepad of fractured words and phrases that were, at one quiet moment, very magical.

spiraled thoughts swirl around
how did i let this happen?
how did god let this happen?
because i sure as hell need someone to blame.

i am battered and bruised by
mr. george washington's profile
on green paper

and now, despite the gracious resolution
and desperate prayers in the elevator
[despite convincing myself rather stoically that i no longer believe that the divine cares so much about the stupid details of life (because if so, why is my hair so flat - yes, i know...my infallible logic is stunning)]
and feeling saved indeed by one of my most favorite, cherished, and unique relationships
the crisis is semi-averted.


but do i feel better? hardly.
i feel completely mangled, stabbed, embarrassed,
used (quite abominably)
utterly e.x.h.a.u.s.t.e.d.

not to mention the poetry is all gone.
and it is for this loss that i really do grieve most
most whole-heartedly.

for in my living
how could i have been so stupid,
i forgot to live.

stupid not because i was flippant with money,
but because i allowed the grapes of wrath
to steal and warp the bit of me that i happen to like.
la poésie
nothing can be worth that loss of soul.
(not when it was so recently recovered)

so today's aim is to retrieve it.
much like yesterday (which was quite a success, i might add).
to revisit the deflated scribbles
of poetry and prose i cast aside for bank statements and credit card balances
and give them life again

i will follow the example of a god i dare to trust
and breath bits of myself into fruition
only not from dust
but onto paper

thereby recovering.


Sept 22 - I am not amused.

September 22, 2008 Candace Morris 7 Comments

Sept 22 - I am not amused., originally uploaded by mme.bookling.

A case of the mondays=
1. Not hearing your alarm.
2. Because of #1, having flat hair and forgetting a belt.
3. Snagging fishnets underneath desk.
4. $4.00 overdrawn. .
5. Running out of ban width on flickr.
6. Snagged nail with no file in sight

In other news, I feel completely disconnected from myself.
Will sneak off at lunch for leftover chili & cornbread and nurture the hell ouf myself.

p.s. when did it happen that people come to my rescue? how lovely to be so lifted up. thank you jsl, thank you kjk, thank you umber - for the words, laughter, deepth, and smiles you drew from this crabby ass this very morning.

breathing in the memory:
rushing water over rocks gray
roots of she and i reaching desperately for the silence
to hear inside what outside always meant to say
inked moss and green words

today will not rush past me in a blur of cynicsm
for i will remember that time when i had pleanty of breathing room,
steal some from then,
and breath deeply today.
even if it kills me.



Sept 19 - The Cheat

September 18, 2008 Candace Morris 6 Comments

Sept 19 - The Cheat, originally uploaded by mme.bookling.

Photo cheating:
1. Not from today, but last month.
2. joelio took this and also "edited" it in his before bed humour.

just leave me alone and let me read, i say.

Also, read this.


"i need oh-la--la-la"

September 18, 2008 Candace Morris 8 Comments

happy wednesday eve.
nothing much happens on mondays and wednesdays, don't you think?
so when life brings me a chance to do something out of my normal structure and routine
i admit
i jump at the chance.
provided i have enough time to
for it.

Allison Goldfrapp.
If I had to die and come back as someone contemporary, it would be she.

"And what you thought you
lost was just mislaid
All the poems written in your skin

You know it
You owe it to yourself
You won't let it make you mad
It's already crazy"
a pre-show hydration

allison goldfrapp

vantage point #1

vantage point #2

  • i have never seen knobby knees look so sexy
  • i am in love with the childish way she taps only her big toe to the beat
  • i sneaked up mid-show to see about her shoe situation. no shoes. as it should be.
  • she seems slightly crazy and entirely ageless
  • "you're gorgeous....excuse me as i help myself to me mug of wine..."
  • i now want a spiral perm and a clown costume dress
(please do excuse the terrible quality of the photos. i have a knack for blurryfiying everything, according to a certain mr. clark. :) )

"Walk out into velvet
Nothing more to say
You're my favorite moment
You're my Saturday"

Sunset only seconds
Just ripe then it's gone
Got no new intentions
Just right then it's gone"

and with a spoonful of vanilla bean ice cream and a square of 75% dark chocolate, i am off to bed with hopes for dream of Seventh Tree. But I have to wash off this makeup first. and with that sentiment, i say welcome back, reality.

FIE. why can't the night last longer?



shrouded in should

September 16, 2008 Candace Morris 19 Comments

i really wish i would have grabbed my copy of Sylvia Plath's journals from my nightstand.
like i intended to
(by putting my cell phone on top of it)
which usually work - the visual ques i set up around me.
but not today, i guess.
oh no,
not today again.
(but oh man, i was very inspired and excited to share with you her amazing words from an entry i read last night. that, and i circled three words i was going to look up.
damned it all to hell.)

moi, aujourd'hui:
full of churning acid in my estomago.
a highened sense of hyper-sensitivity and
a rebellion agianst others telling me to share.

share, like i know i should
i hate should.
"suck it, should!"

i should NOT want to have my controlling sausage-fingers on everything.
but i do.
i should NOT be so easily irritated at the irascibility of 66-year old cranky that i work with.
but i am.
i should not be so sensitive
or feel that there is not enough love to go around.
but in moments of weakness,
how i utterly forget.

i should be working on this damned spreadsheet.
but i hate it.
i should be happier with myself.
but i get to share this vice with all of womankind.
how boring.
turns out i am just like everyone else.
no beautiful or unique snowflake after all.

quelle tragique

Don't you just long to spend your day in Booklings? I sure do. I dream of wandering into work around 9am - wearing something I put together in my melancholic-chic way: (something like this, perchance?)I am sitting down to the mahagony, exchanging subdued morning hushes with Benjamin as he opens the bar...sipping earl grey and nibbling a scone for breakfast. I would then wander into my incredibly well-lit office (lighted is not the correct verb here) and sit at my antique desk to script a letter. Around 10am, the quirky and eccentric staff begin to arrive - including my spouse with our dog and/or child...whichever the cuter. The store buzzes with the beginnings of the day, accompanied joyously by the happy electronic sounds of The Junior Boys or, on rainy days - Air.

Ah, daydreams - mucho mejor que:

thank the lord for sisters who come to meet you downtown and break you from the monotony and stress of your crabby boss; thank the lord for the promise of an evening meal with friends you consider family; thank the lord for grapes.

tell me, friends.
if you walked into booklings
heard the bell ringing with entrance...
where would you go?
what would you do?
come muse with me today.

if for no other reason than
you really should.

~mme. bookling
future owner of literary libations sold at BOOKLINGS.


monday off-erings

September 15, 2008 Candace Morris 7 Comments

something feels funny tonight.
my hair was too clean all day;
i could do simply nothing with it.
my stomach feels like it's been submerged into a deep fat fryer.
my right thumbnail is way too short for comfort.
my left foot has a fruit fly landing on it.
my big toe itches.
my wrist hurts from this damn desk.

too awake to go to bed.
to antsy to read.

i need a jane fonda workout.
guess i will group chat instead with my friendlings.

how are you?


Sept 15 - a lunch chat

September 15, 2008 Candace Morris 2 Comments

Sept 15 - a lunch chat, originally uploaded by mme.bookling.

i love you, jackie.

you shine brightly
whether you see it or not.


Sept 13

September 13, 2008 Candace Morris 7 Comments

Sept 13 - Boom Noodles, originally uploaded by mme.bookling.

a luncheon date.

happy saturday.


because sometimes i use my blog ill

September 12, 2008 Candace Morris 10 Comments

dear candacemorris.blogspot.com, I intend to subject you to my shameless list making.
You are being used.
You may want to get out while you can.

le BOO (list).
  1. bromeliads or silk plans
  2. diane von furstenburg silk dress (in a size you never thought possible) that you cannot possibly afford though it's only $50!
  3. blogs as forums for political discussion
  4. crooked, irreparable (because the manufacturer f'ed up) bra straps
  5. fruit flies. (actual fruit flies! side story here. kelly's beautiful new gay friends just informed her of that a woman who loves gay men are not fag hags (who are actually women who want to "convert" gay men with their, um, sexual wiles...) but are now affectionately termed "fruit flies.") Seattle is infested with fruit flies (the actual BUG) and i am going a wee bit mad in my kitchen.
  6. my kitchen....(joel has a plan to fix, we shall see).
  7. people who are blissfully oblivious and chronically, substantially late...and who rely solely on others to take care of their own needs when they are completely capable.
  8. non-fat cottage cheese
  9. well-hung plants and husbands who hang them so lovingly. :)
  10. negoiating to work only 4 days/week and realizing that although it's a 20% pay cut, that i have infact, grabbed my life by the proverbial "parts" and told it that i will not be dictated by a paycheck.
  11. effortlessly fabulous (umber) and melancholy chic (me).

le SMIRK (list)

  1. NEW PURSE. I found it at Buffalo Exchange, and it's this gorgeous olive green Isabella Fiore purse that retails at $500 - and I got for $120! I have never had such a bag, and I feel so smart and chic with it. It's big enough to fit my life in, but not big enough to fit my closet in - like the previous back-breaker luggage I used to call a purse. It's the perfect color for fall, and look at those leather pine cones! How eccentric and surprising!

  2. Because I sold some clothing, I was able to buy a lovely new silk dress for tonight's viewing of Phantom of the Opera! I love consignment.
  3. Phantom of the Opera with my Clarks.
  4. Walking to Phantom of the Opera because it's less than a mile from my front door.
  5. I have discovered espresso again. I have felt pretty great because of that double-tall, nonfat, dry cappuccino i imbibed an hour ago.
  6. A general feeling of contentment in relationships. I feel more and more less and less inclined to take everyone's emotions upon myself and have manged to convince myself (this week at least) that I am not responsible for how people feel about me, how I spend my time, or how I live my life. I feel released and this feels almost magical. I sometimes realize that it sounds self-aggrandizing to admit my God-complex...this incessant need to fix every problem people bring before me...like "isn't it sad, I am so selfless." And the truth is, just to clarify, the desire to always be needed is a rather selfish desire in me. I feel like thinking I am what everyone needs is really a misunderstanding of myself and people. So do not think that my savior-complex is virtuous or that I am in any possible way attached to this. Moral of the story: I will nurture who I can and refuse to berate or unhealthily intertwine myself with those whom I cannot. Simply put...it's okay and really necessary to say no confidently and not try to control what others will think.
  7. Knowing myself. I believe that the more and more I seek to know myself, the more and more I fight the internal isolation that presses upon me. If I continue to believe that I am freak of nature for various eccentricities in my personality, I will continue to isolate myself so as not to confront the differences in others that aggravate these eccentricities. But if instead, I seek to fully understand myself, I find that I am much like many humans who have walked this earth. Knowing myself gives me the confidence and fortitude to reach out and know others without fear of loosing myself in them. Knowing myself is the ultimate boundary to a successful relationships with others.
  8. Realizing that for the first time in my life, I have relationships with some females that I am actually sad to think about leaving behind.
  9. Fiercely intelligent women who have befriended me and will defend my cause more readily than I. Also, I learn new words from them daily. Por ejemplo - cloyingly: distastefully excessive or overly sweet.

Okay now on to my to-do list.
Poor blog. Oh the mistreatment!

  • Buy tights for this evening's (walking to Nordstrom's at lunch...:) )
  • Dishes
  • Mop Floor
  • Laundry - including towels, sheets, shower curtain, and bath mat
  • Scour bathroom
  • Grand reorganizing of kitchen (which will include moving of refrig and an instertion of more counter space via butcher block)
  • Balancing of checkbook and budget/pay bills
  • Vacuum
  • Go to wine tasting open house
  • Have a date with joel
  • Go to the fair on Sunday w/ Ben and Jess
  • Take pictures of all of the above
  • Look up the etomological history of the word cocktail (isn't that so fascinating?!)

~stretching to see what i can see,
p.s. if i don't get to see you this weekend, know this. i really love you. this means YOU.


i am one clairvoyant s.o.b.

September 10, 2008 Candace Morris 22 Comments

my therapist thinks i am mildly depressed - clinically.

Apparently she has thought so for two years now, but out of her wisdom, never told me my insurance-necessary diagnosis for fear of self-fufilling prophecy. Turns out I am prophetic without even knowing it.

that word clinical is funny.
what the hecks does it mean?!!!
as in i am depressed WHEN i am in a clinic? well, bien sur!

for the record. i have never been in a clinic.

not that there's anything wrong with it, if you really need the help.
but just to clear up the TERMS and intensity of my insanity.

I have ten pockets full of analytical and valid reasons for this onset of depression - and the truth is? I didn't even recognize it because it feels like my normal melancholy self.
Only - it's not.
It's a decided LACK of motivation and fight for life...which I typically have in abundance.
I cannot feel as deeply as usual.
I cannot get enough sleep - why wake up (even after 10+ hrs) if the dreams are so much better than reality? Sadly, my reality is lovely. I just cannot seem to feel it or experience it as I know I could.
I cannot make myself want to do ANYTHING other than live vicariously through other people's fake lives (hello entertainment binge of last weekend).

Anyway, I swore I wasn't going to bore you with the self-analytical suspicions I have as to why I am depressed, but my favorite answer to why I am downtrodden? I just have to share this ONE.

It has been almost 1 whole month since I have ordered a new piece of plumeage from MisssyMissMz PLUME (pronoucned vis russian accent) since June!!! Perhaps when I can again see a PLUS sign in my checkbook sometime this month, I will be curing my Vitamin D deficiency and lack of exercise (sorry, couldn't help giving more reasons) with this:

or perhaps this: The Jot Down a Poem necklace

or ZISSS!!!

The Gentled But Not Broken ring that flew away to a home EONS ago
But I still think of you, dear.

Yes, yes. I believe these would lift my spirits indeed.
That and moving to Scotland to pursue my MA in Romantic Modernity.

~here's to a deeply-felt life,


perchance to dream

September 09, 2008 Candace Morris 8 Comments

must we really be so damn'ed practical? must we live vicarious dreams only through art and movies?

while perched on the stoop tonight, clove in hand, 2003 Bordeaux decanting inside, my favorite red-head and i had a little chat....a little heart-to-heart wherein we slapped each others' practical sensibilities to the floor
like the annoying little fruit-flies they are.

the inspired vision is all i want to trust.

"To sleep, perchance to dream-
ay, there's the rub." (Hamlet)

so i step out of the mire and
into the brilliance of understanding
that my life is only determined by a paycheck
if indeed
allow it.

so it begins. all i want is to spend this time before booklings studying what i love.
you guessed it dears.

~off to dream.


Sept 8

September 08, 2008 Candace Morris 5 Comments


"We are always getting ready to live, but never living." -Emerson

September 05, 2008 Candace Morris 9 Comments

i am feeling it so acutely these past hours, the hours alone without joel.

i feel it when i drive in the forested darkness, tice's music loud enough for the heavens to participate...chills and visions head-lighting the asphalt.

Sept 4 - going places, originally uploaded by mme.bookling.

i feel it when i finally make myself go to bed after struggling with all the chores i seriously cannot muster up the desire to do. when no one else is there, it's so hard for me to care about the house. and this makes me wonder, how much of who i am and what i do is because of my role in my marriage. so i plant my succulents instead of doing the four-day old pile of dishes. i leave my clothes on the bathroom floor and don't put away my shoes...but all the while wondering why i don't feel this way when i am being a wife...and then floods of questions and gratitude and then, the most acute missing of my husband hushes me towards bed.

i watch an episode of My So-Called Life in bed, and weep through the whole thing.

i fall asleep, surrounded by pillows and the cold, empty sheets. release the grief pressing upon me...in the form of salt and water...wondering how i have allowed myself to be so consumed with stupid things.

i wonder at the miracle of music, art, books. glory in how art, and often only art, can bring me back to myself again. tice's album, a show, a photograph, a word....the only things that stab this thick shell (which i love about myself - but which is also often hard to penetrate) and remind me that indeed, i must be living. look, soul, look at how deeply i feel it!

i sometimes feel it in spring and fall - like plath says - when nature convinces us we are as young as we ever were (not exact quote). but when does it all start?

i want to grab my life like a snow-globe and point to the parts where i lived.
i want to shake it and demand that its snowflakes are the moments when i finally grasped it...the direction,
the divine curse'd destiny that
worn out
like leaves gnawed into gaping, cavernous holes by mr. caterpillar.
only unlike him, i never seem to fully emerge from the metamorphosis.

"when does it start?" i scream.
"when do i get to LIVE?!!!!!!"

i wept for me last night, this morning, today. if i don't, no one will - not because they don't want to, but because they simply cannot. i am the only human who knows me so well - and i have a responsibility to attend its dramatic performance.

i wept because i have no art.
i wept because i have no silver.
i wept because i have no more music.
i wept because i have no eye or hands.
i wept because i have no remarkable worldly beauty.
i wept because without these arts, i cannot possibly have lived or enriched other's lives as they enrich mine.
i wept because i have only me to work with.

i wept because i think that's remarkable.

because of all of this weeping and pondering, i was up until 2am.
when i walked to work again today two hours after my normal start time, i saw my building as i descended into downtown. that one stationary structure in which i have spent 4,160 hours of my god-given breath, and for what? do i live now? is it okay to not live for a while so you can live more fully later?

i pray for the days to end, the weeks to fly by in a flash towards the weekends - but all of a sudden, weeks and months have passed, and i am 30. have i lived? have i really grabbed it and looked at it for all the beauty, for all the nonsense, for all the damn'ed pain?!

and if i have, tell me,

and then i want to slow the weeks and days - but if i do, THEN will i live? only if i feel every moment profoundly? even the moments of boredom and drudgery? fie.

my heart pounds, my palms sweat.
i want to grab it.
i feel it so acutely.
i just weep.

i see something simple and funny.
i must capture.
i mean it...today, i really have to.
it's what i randomly grabbed for breakfast, lunch, and afternoon snack.
comment amusant, non?

"Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."
~Shakespeare (from MacBeth)

very acutely yours,


the gifts of a thurs morning

September 04, 2008 Candace Morris 9 Comments

things i am reminded of today that please me:
  1. grammar. it's like a beautiful math equation (without the vomiting and panic attacks). newest form of grammatical correctness i am trying to fit into daily speech:

    "hey candi, where's my shoes?"

    "hey, joelio, you mean, 'where ARE my shoes,' right? And they are right where you left them, just behind the mirror in the left hand side of your mother's bathroom. Exactly." (Also note the correct usage of quotation marks and placement of punctuation w/in quotation marks).

    "gee, candi, you's great and good at everything."

    "gee, joelio, you ARE also pretty swell yourself."

  2. the smart warmth of a sassy brown and green number i wore today. also pictured is my keyboard, which i love. (i am a picky dame when it comes to keyboards, and this one makes just the perfect little satisfying click and has just the right amount of light pressure to the key. the one i own at home is like lifting weights with each finger press and is also a cacophony of annoyance to the quiet little corner in which i type while joelio slumbers. i feel like an amazon woman typing).
  3. Random and superfluous use of parenthesis.
  4. Wikipedia! Oh man, I really love this website so much. I ran across a word in Plath's journal's last night that I had seen but forgotten the meaning of which was visigoth, and the dictionary just did not give me enough information or modern uses of the word. Plath used it to infer an ancient germanic, almost tribal connotation - but i would never have known this without Wikipedia. Can I marry it? That would make me a bigamist.
  5. Looking up things on the internet. By things I mean places I plan to go, restaurants, shops, countries. I am grabbing dinner with a former student tonight, so I found the menu and have chosen a well-balanced and responsible dinner choice well before I get to the point in my day that the hypoglycemia morphs me into Rochester's raving lunatic-bride residing in the attic. (I will kiss whomever can guess that literary reference).
  6. Literary references.
  7. Angel food cake, strawberries, and homemade ice cream. My coworker had a bday celebration, and that was the festive faire that has already been ingested this morning. I need to eat something substantial to curb the coffee and sugar, but it was SOO good. I think it's close to my favorite dessert (that is when I am not going mad with "female" issue and joelio has to put my greedy, chocolate-craving hands and arms in a straight jacket).
  8. Walking to work because I missed by bus by 6 minutes. Even better? Walking to work listening to goldfrapp on new iphone - which then reminded me of going to see mz. allison goldfrapp next week, which reminded me of another fun outfit to plan.
  9. joel's parents. they saw me from down the street as i crashed hard off my banana boat bike, came running, picked up my scabbed self, kissed my elbows and knees, carried me into the house, made me cocoa and mashed potatoes, wiped my tears, and sat with me for the rest of the afternoon. it does me well this morning to know that when I scream, my parents will run.
  10. joel's easy-going personality and never-failing support.
  11. 1pm dates for tea.
  12. Over-the-knee socks.
  13. Really kind words from faces I have never seen.
  14. Planning my weekend.
  15. Finny's blog. I don't know her, but that biatch is HILARIOUS.

Things that displease my self this am:

  1. Peach skin....cringe.
  2. Bangs in eyes.
  3. Condescension from co-workers.
  5. Customer service at Forever21.com, from whom I bought a gift card for my niece's 14th bday - online. URG.
  6. Runny brown eyeliner.
  7. How my boots feel on my thigh when I cross my legs.

7 to 16 is not bad. Perhaps this win on the part of the positive is why I feel not too bad. Not too bad at all.



day three

September 03, 2008 Candace Morris 3 Comments

thanks to devon, i feel quite relaxed and glowing from a delightful facial.

thanks to my stomach, i am really hungry and steamed broccoli did NOT do the trick. craving a quesadilla, hot tub, expensive glass of cab franc, and a day off. again. i am addicted.

i am out of words for you. this is normal for me.

i don't know if i've ever said it, but thanks for reading.



knawing at the she inside

September 02, 2008 Candace Morris 6 Comments

deep inside the breast-bone of woman-kind, there is something brewing, brimming, bubbling over with a cocktail of emotions that tastes something like stomach bile and sweet honey.

it's a tasty little mixture of :
irascibility (thanks kjk)
incessant prattle
and peaches.

each her own special variation and portion of this mixture.

the stewing together of the ingredients makes her who she is, and often her only antidote is either gulping down the medicine of each other...or dragging her wounded body back to the trenches to tend her own wounds alone.

sometimes it's hard, sometimes it's easy, sometimes it makes her drunk as hell.

but here's to she...her...madame, mz, senorita, mrs, 여성, chicita, miss, femme, frau.

she needs permission to need. she needs permission to be distant. she needs permission to see relationships with the perspective of a life that has lived many years and will live another many years (she hopes), a perspective that calms her with its wisdom...

that relationships both good and hard will come and go as destiny wills...

oh the female soul - how you plague. tempt. sooth.

for kjk:
"Light flows our war of mocking words, and yet,
Behold, with tears mine eyes are wet!
I feel a nameless sadness o'er me roll.
Yes, yes, we know that we can jest,
We know, we know that we can smile!
But there's a something in this breast,
To which thy light words bring no rest,
And thy gay smiles no anodyne.

Give me thy hand, and hush awhile,
And turn those limpid eyes on mine,
And let me read there, love! thy inmost soul.

Alas! is even love too weak
To unlock the heart, and let it speak?
Are even lovers powerless to reveal
To one another what indeed they feel?
I knew the mass of men conceal'd
Their thoughts, for fear that if reveal'd
They would by other men be met
With blank indifference, or with blame reproved;
I knew they lived and moved
Trick'd in disguises, alien to the rest
Of men, and alien to themselves--and yet
The same heart beats in every human breast!

But we, my love!--doth a like spell benumb
Our hearts, our voices?--must we too be dumb?
Ah! well for us, if even we,

Even for a moment, can get free
Our heart, and have our lips unchain'd;
For that which seals them hath been deep-ordain'd!"

excerpt from The Buried Life by Matthew Arnold. (some of this was read at my wedding).

in the words of kjk again, "being a human female feels quite...visceral some days, does it not? and other days so light and dreamy..." we cannot change that we will always be female. time to accept all curves.



day one

September 01, 2008 Candace Morris 9 Comments

do i really have to go back to work?

i had a day at the zoo with jess...kind of spontaneous and kind of perfect.
i feel too alive to go to bed...
but alas, i must.