an explaination

August 31, 2008 Candace Morris 6 Comments

C'est Fin du August

il est épuisant d'être moi.
i find relief tonight in the thought that i will soon be asleep and for
at least those 8-10 hours (yay for a holiday)
i will have no cognizance of


p.s. i hope my more melancholic posts never make you worry. it is who i am. i analyze for no one's sake but my own, and i pull no punches with myself...but dears, i am a sad little bird 90% of the time, a bit dreary, sometimes dramatic, and often distant. it's me. you must accept it as i have done, choose not to worry, love me as i am - or for your sake, just choose not to keep reading. :)



August 31, 2008 Candace Morris 2 Comments

i saw neko today. enough said.
i didn't take too many pictures.

i cleaned my kitchen floor.

i wore green eyeliner. and blue tights.

i laughed with devon and jess.

i listened to devon play the piano.

i bought two Goldfrapp tickets. Come to the show with us!

i am also practicing for the 30 days of self to start on Monday.

i am exhausted from the full day - but content with it's holdings, are you?

i do hope so.
because there is nothing like discontent
to fuel the acidic juices of restlessness.
and dears...i wish you only rest. not less.


le countdown

August 29, 2008 Candace Morris 4 Comments

things i am infatuated with of late:

1. saying:

2. my neighborhood.

  • joel and i were very restless foxes in our foxhole last night...and so we deiced to take an urban walk...after a stop at B&O Espresso for numi green tea and a spot of chocolate (ignore my recent posts about eating well. NO DON'T..but I did have a moment of weakness started (thanks a lot) by Umber's peach pie that lead to another moment of weakness in the Devils Food Cake. le fuck!).
  • we walked north on Harvard all the way to the famous St. Mark's Episcopal Cathedral

    View Larger Map
  • and then we went back again. this neighborhood is full of lovely and NICE old homes (bringing in a cool couple million). the streets are covered in oaks and maples and cottonwoods and evergreens. the pre-autumnal breeze romanticized us and we floated for 1.5 hours down the streets. le sigh.

3. Grapes

4. Last night I watched two episodes of FAME! Oh man, my big sister used to watch this and it's just so horrible and great. What could be more entertaining than a bunch of talented kids going to a performing arts high school running into their teachers at broadway tryouts! LE DRAMA.

5. Water. This is sad. I have had only 1 alcoholic beverage this entire week! I am on a new eating program and while I can still drink, I have to choose b/w a glass of wine or a piece of bread...and right now, I am choosing food. I am sure this will change.

get sim card on iphone fixed. grr.
go to woman doctor. double grr.
grocery shop for dinner. minor grr. (lots of walking)
go to library to pick up movies.
go see Neko Case (i HOPE! still waiting to hear about tickets! BENNNN????)
DRINK A BEER. oh how i have craved you, Belgian-ale. le GULP.
buy three plants w/ Devon on our date to
Molbaks. le WHOOT.
plan the grand reorganization of the closet. le triple grrrr, but still feels nice.

le adieu,
c'est moi.


not my words

August 28, 2008 Candace Morris 6 Comments

good morning, thursday.

she greets you in great faith and hope of what you may hold for her. perhaps you will accept this tea-and-words offering and return to her the gift of confidence, fulfillment, and rest that comes from knowing her gifts were utilized, her work noticed, her aches purposeful.

though, my dear thursday, you have much to live up to after yestereve. when all the world finally hushed, she grabbed her book and ran her hot bath. she read and read and read and then she scooted into her comfies and crisp sheets and and then she wrote. she felt the brimming over with words, the extension of her mind manifested in pen to paper. she wondered bemusedly at 11 post meridian bringing her the most awake and alive time to her day.

everything else must quiet before she can be heard...
and then she read some more.

"It seems to me more than ever that I am a victim of introspection. If I have not the power to put myself in the place of other people, but must be continually burrowing inward, I shall never be the magnanimous creative person I wish to be. Yet I am hypnotized by the workings of the individual, alone, and am continually using myself as a specimen. I am possessive about time alone, more so now that my working hours are not spent studying for myself, but dancing attendance to a family. Here I am in the midst of a rich, versatile family, as close as I could get...Yet so constantly am I moving, working, acting, that I do not often think "How strange this is ...I am competently frying eggs for three children on Sunday morning while the parents sleep. I must learn more about these people - try to understand them, put myself in their place." No, instead I am so busy keeping my head above water that I scarcely know who I am, much less who anyone else is..." (76).

"...and yet does it not all come again to the fact that it is a man's world? For if a man chooses to be promiscuous, he may still aesthetically turn up his nose at promiscuity. He may still demand a woman be faithful to him, to save him from his own lust. But women have lust, too. Why should they be relegated to the position of custodian of emotions, watcher of the infants, feeder of soul, body, and pride of man?

Being born a woman is my awful tragedy.

From the moment I was conceived I was doomed to sprout breasts and ovaries rather than penis and scrotum; to have my whole circle of action, thought, and feeling rigidly circumscribed by my inescapable femininity. Yes, my consuming desire to mingle with road crews, sailors and soldiers, bar room regulars - to be a part of a scene, anonymous, listening, recording - all is spoiled by the fact that I am a girl, a female always in danger of assault and battery. My consuming interest in men and their lives is often misconstrued as a desire to seduce them, or as an invitation to intimacy..." (77).

though these words are the words of an 18-year-old Sylvia Plath...and are not her words, she absorbs them into her being, fully entrenching her soul in this truth:

she is not alone
on the path
to find a life worthy of living, of deep introspection, of abiding affection
not just to others,
but self.

her tea and heart need warming - off to tend to both,


i want.

August 27, 2008 Candace Morris 10 Comments

i never seem to stop wanting.

i have this battle inside for the calming waters of peace and i believe it to be constantly engulfed by flames by the want of consumerism...and while i have no ethical or moral qualms about it, it's still something inside me that wants desperately to be tempered.

with every change of season, i want. with every new restaurant, i want. with each new play, opera, symphony, i want. with each anniversary, i want.

i want travel, furniture, books, groceries, wine, dresses, hair color, pedicures, shoes, gloves, umbrellas, purses, house(s), camping gear, plasma tv, car, to give Christmas presents, houseplants, new shelves for closet, kitchen tea-table and chairs, shelves for kitchen, facial, and to go back to school.

i want to temper this ever-pressing desire to consume all around me. i want to be happy to have 1 pair of jeans for longer than 2 years. i want to not feel victimised by last season's black heels. i want to have money to live on when i am 80. i want to be able to teach my offspring that having the latest and greatest of everything can actually

one's character.
(i believe much of the strength of my inner self comes from my impoverished upbringing. though this has made almost all of my siblings and i a bit impulsive with money, i have recognized that it made me the better for it. HOWEVER, i cannot fabricate poverty, and am probably not going to be impoverished, so the idea of teaching little people to keep money from controlling them is one daunting prospect out of of the 700 zillion daunting prospects to parenting).

perhaps this is consuming me right now because i am actually trying to SAVE for some things i want instead of overextending my budget every month because of some impulsive purchase or weariness at the thought of planning or cooking meals. it is brought to my philosophical attention because i refuse to let the battle for "getting ahead" consume me. if i cannot pay off my credit, so be it. if i cannot ever afford a house, so be it. but if i can, how unfortunate for me to be piddling my future away because i had to have.

it's not just money. inside i feel this great jerking back of the reigns...of my eating habits, of non-intentional alone time (i need a lot of it, but i need it to be SOULFUL, not just sitting on my ass perusing stupid facebook), of my spending habits, of my messy house. i feel the need to grab something by the balls and finally gain control over it.

instead of whining.

this post is annoying me today.
oh wait. that's my job.
i sit here, barely conscious of the evening separating yesterday from today.
i have done the following this morning:

  • wasted time on flickster to find movies i want to see to put on my library list
  • put movies on my library list (free movies in Seattle!) including all seasons of My So Called Life. I watched the first three episodes online last night, and I am hooked. I never got to watch the show as a teenager (mum didn't approve - and I think it was on cable), and I am really loving it.
  • got tickets to Rimskey-Korsakov at the Seattle Symphony (cheap seats re: above thoughts)
  • twiddled around on goodreads
  • finalized going to see Phantom of the Opera!!! YAY.
  • prayed that anyone had updated their blogs so I could find something to read

i do hope today finds you internally examining and finding that you are worthy of saving for.


routine and decay

August 25, 2008 Candace Morris 13 Comments

Cheer-io fellow Monday-sufferers,

oh isn't Monday just a double-edged sword? I hate going back to work with the daunting prospect of five days ahead of my next Saturday (esp when that Saturday will bring Neko Case LIVE to my ears), but I also have a lot of momentum and plenty to do, usually (i.e. i looked at the clock and suddenly two hours had passed).

i am such a night owl! i cannot bring myself to fall asleep before midnight, though i often start my nightly ritual around 10:30 pm. Nightly ritual includes the following (and almost always in this order (i swear, i am not a freak, just highly structured - and i don't freak out if this routine can't happen - except for the starred elements, these are necessary for sleep)):
  • Take Vitamins (multi/fish oil/lysine)
  • Hot (scalding) bath with book or magazine (30 min)
  • Lotion body
  • PJs*
  • Remove Eye Makeup
  • Wash Face*
  • Tone face
  • Brush teeth*
  • Night face cream, night eye cream*
  • Wander into bedroom
  • Fold bed down (husband already usually fast asleep - he works at 4am)
  • Heavy cream for hands and feet
  • Chap stick* (burt's bees all natural, thank you very much)
  • Prop up pillows
  • Journal and/or read*

Yes, so last night when I finally put down my book, it was close to 1am. I love the night time, my mind comes alive with ideas and inspiration. I find the world quite over-stimulating in general; therefore, when it finally goes to sleep, I feel I can now find the peace and quiet to sit still, ease out of the day's restlessness, and listen to my insides. It's a terribly necessary, soulful part of my day.

For instance, last night's journal entry gave me some necessary mental goals for this week about shopping, relationships, eating, and nurturing myself through a hyper-sensitive phase...if I had omitted that from last night, I think today I would feel even heavier...and dearies, Monday is already


I know plenty of people that do not need routine or ritual (hubby being numero uno (when I am out of town and I call at 4pm and he is just then making lunch, I experience a not-so-slight shock to my system)) - and I am unabashed in my perplexion of this - excusing it to the omnipresent mantra "to each their own." I think my mother was very structured (kids need this) and so I piggy-backed those needs of hers onto my day - consequently, she is also highly-organized, a capable leader, a night-owl, an introvert, a late riser, and a fabulously good house-cleaner (all of which I am proud to say are qualities I share).

I truly believe that my structured life acts as a means for me to alleviate the constant pressings of worry on my life. If I make sure to add something to my routine, I don't have to fret about remembering to do it. I won't wake up in 30 years with saggy lines on my face because I didn't apply my night cream, darn it! I very well may wake up with saggy lines anyway, but it won't be because I was inattentive or a poor steward of this body. (I live in rather high-expectations of myself...and for the most part do find that I can meet those expectations. Except for when it all comes crashing down on what Joel likes to term Friday Night Meltdowns. I will spare you the messy details, but how vexatious indeed!).

Please feel ye not judged, I simply wish to present this thought: If people would experiment more with the patterns of their day - I think they would find two things.:

1) Structure/routine/planning is one of the most useful combatants to idle depression and
2) Routine cannot cure the soul's ailments for life's quest for meaning (number 2 being my current didactic speech to self).

I think the next thing to add is to structure-in/routine-in some exercise - because I am constantly anxious about how little I use my body and how irresponsible of me it is - and how if I just DID it, I would certainly love it more. Also, it would surely help the anxiety I cannot fucking shake these last months AND assist my peace of mind as I seek to reestablish a healthy weight-loss regimen.

I have of late been overwhelmed by the talent of others - of Miss Plath's Journals, of McCullers, Mr. Steinbeck of understanding that they:

a) make writing look MUCH too easy
b) are more talented than I can ever wish to be

both of which i find discouraging, yet despite these discouragements they:

a) inspire me to write
b) are simply humans "telling men's hearts of the hearts of men centuries dead" (Shapiro)

and that's all i am. a human female. .

a human lady comprised of bones, blood, tissue, nerves, and soul. a human who will someday not feel the pen in her hand or touch joel's smooth face or breathe the forest air or eat gobi gosh or be anxious about how to be wise with money, but the very hand i use to deftly type these nonsensical words will decay...yet these words never will.

you know, for having no living tissue, words sure are stalwart sons of bitches. My words very may will be the only me that lives on, especially if I remain childless (are children just another vain attempt at man's desire to be immortal?) If this is the sad state of decay, perhaps I should write more. It may be my only lineage.

Befuddled and Pensive,


the end of an era

August 20, 2008 Candace Morris 7 Comments

She stepped out of the restaurant into the torrents of cleansing summer rain. Euphoria umbrella'ed her in its nostalgia…memories, the ticking clock, the time now gone, laughter to come flooded her mind as the water strangled her wispy bangs.

A friend…the first for one, a gift for the other. Healthy, honest, open, shy, reserved, similar.

Crossing 4th, she grabbed one last look at the restaurant – hoping for one last glimpse of the group saying goodbye, but to no avail. Looking forward, yet again, she sighed with deep contentment and knowledge that what had passed between them (early on, mid-way, and of late) was good. Very good.

Frustrated by her own ability to conjure emotion at the appropriate times, she wished she could have expressed more stunningly what had happened to her that morning while thinking of the goodbye lunch.

Earlier that morning, while running the hot shower water, a thought. “This is the last time I get to say goodbye.” And the shocking tears and welling emotion that she knew would one day come finally did. Appropriately, the shower and the rain brought her back to her most honest self, a self that is genuinely sad to see a friend move. A true and necessary mourning of the end of an era – a Seattle without her is no Seattle at all.

No get-together will be the same. No laughter complete, no tear truly felt, no hope fully realized until she comes back.

She remembers when they first got together at Vivace, one terribly weak and hard from a relationship gone awry, the other trepidatious of adding women to her life. Turns out neither needing saving, yet both drew such inspiration. They knew the potential for a deep connection was there, but carefully respected that time was on their side.

She remembers the wedding – the time spent in the forest behind a camera – capturing the bride's vehement vulnerability and indelible shoulders. She remembers the parties, the purple couch, the frustrations with all the opposite opinions and cigarettes – but never leaving feeling disconnected. In the darkest orbs of eyes, the Mexican beauty always knew how to express with her humility that everything you do is loved and noticed.

She remembers the sneak-ends, the Cure, seeing Darjeeling together, wandering around Nordstrom’s, reminiscing about Florence. She remembers the hair cuts, the molé, the sex version of apples-to-apples, the way-to-big-for-us ice cream cones, the oceans of booze, the gum portrait, the most deadly of secrets revealed and subsequent grievous tears, and the guarded but deeply understood knowledge that they have something special; after all, when you've danced with someone at 3am you know them to be something birthed of stars and moon - just like yourself.

She must not let her leave without her knowing that she is integral, will be missed, and Seattle's gut will not take in its truest, most cleansing, and brightest breath until she is back.

Drenched and back in the god-forsaken cubicle, she knows this only:

It’s the end of an era. Seattle without Niki is no Seattle at all…


soli-tude adjustment

August 19, 2008 Candace Morris 13 Comments

so in god's fucking graciousness, i have found some beautiful time to be alone. last night, tonight, tomorrow's like this sea of whatever.the.fuck.i.want...and it makes me just want to
SWEAR with joy.


Last night, I put away laundry, straightened our house, made some mexican food (my default when alone - and a huge victory over grabbing a hamburg on the way home), watched Olympics* & **, distributed yummy Yakima peaches to my friends who ordered a box, read both books (The Heart is a Lonely Hunter - it's blowing my mind and The Sylvia Plath Journals), journaled, and slept soundly with a happy productivity ease.

Solitude night #2 -my landing spot for purse and hat - home at last (walked today! yay)

do i want wine?

nah, g & t instead

the lovely pair of pairs

i DO kiss and tell, biatch

spontaneous dancing session while waiting for oven to preheat. tice's music makes me MOVE. umber sorry for the repeat of friday night on the club floor...:)

a little video blog to entertain you. i swear i don't have a lisp

favorite bowl from joel's mom

mixing the dough

attempting to knead the cheap.ass.dough

ready to bake

here's to hopin

25 min later - a bit charred but smelling SOO good

yeah, defenitly looking wrong

sitting to eat what has turned out to be more like a casserole...crust did NOT hold up.
(note wardrobe change. white and i haven't made up since the great merlot incident of 2004.)

it didn't at all stay together, but it was TASTY.

now off to settle in for more Olympics or maybe even a movie to make me cry. After all, I am alone - best take advantage of the open cry zone w/o my sensitive spouse peeking at me from the other couch. :)

Feeling fine, a little dandy, and certainly gin'ed up,

*joel and i dont have a tele- he instead bought me a media computer (that i built- thank you very much for the sexist comments about computer geeks) and we only watch tv through the internet or whatever- so i was really bummed at the original thought that i wouldn't be able to watch the Olympics. My family always joel FOUND me a downloadable client that records (even if it's already happened!) the events of my choosing (gymnastics, synchronized swimming, dressage (for umber), soccer, diving, swimming, etc) and so let's drink to JOEL!

** I love the hairless wonder, Mr. Phelps. I also wept when Nastia won the gold in gymnastics - the girl seemed unhealthily stoic and unreal in competition and to see her FINALLY break down broke me down.


oh to see far enough...

August 18, 2008 Candace Morris 3 Comments

tell me truly, do you ever get the most precious glimpse of your finite existence?...a time when the clouds are formed just perfectly so over the late afternoon sun, gently allowing the human eye to espy the earth as from something now infinite...such a peep surely brings a renewed sense of existence and perspective.

perspective...there's a word.

As I was driving home last night from Joel's parents house, listening to Tice's new album, I saw the most intimate sky. It was not spectacularly colored or surprisingly stunning, but it caught my eye just as my ears were being coaxed by a very clever, vulnerable, emotive, and openhanded lyricist - and the true beauty of life came over me* because, for that moment in time, i was able to loose my life in the history of the universe. All the possible wars, car accidents, careers, relationships, breaths - none of it mattered to the cosmos.

Clinging desperately to this embryotic state of nothingness, I was able to relate to my cherished spouse. As a boy, joel had a bedroom with a window resting on the roof, and in order to access this window more readily, he built a bed to extend upwards, making it possible to sleep with his head almost entirely outside. This stargazing not only birthed his fascination with astronomy, but feed the deepest part of his cavernous spirit. He says the stars give him a perspective that would remind him of his fleeting life...and his worries melted away. As we were dating, joel would describe this same ritual - of a communion with god provided only by the night sky....of a deep realization of god's own pain in caring for his children.

(swoon, i know.)

However, it was my turn to experience this yestereve (and none too late). My spirit transcended, i felt as light as a feather, easy as a summer breeze and every other cliche phrase you could imagine.

"The tradesman, the attorney comes out of the din and craft of the street, and sees the sky and wood, and is a man again. In their eternal calm, he finds himself. The health of the eye seems to demand a horizon. We are never tired, so long as we can see far enough."
~Ralph Waldo Emerson in Nature

seattle is just gorgeously gloomy today - and it could not suit my parched soul any better.

p.s. Tice, if you ever read this, though I doubt you will, you have single-handedly completely changed my mind about The Road. Your powers of persuasion through music I do not take lightly, and nor should you, but I am really moved by the song, and this emotion has moved me to reevaluate the novel - and the more I do this, the more I do really appreciate what it has done for literature...and am even moved by the erroneous grammar and syntax as I now see it as necessary, purposeful, and intensely effective.


the numbing nothingness

August 15, 2008 Candace Morris 3 Comments

i think it's 11:30 am (what do i mean, I THINK , i completely know b/c it's on my screen, duh ), which means i have been sitting at this god-forsaken, demon-infested cubicle for 3.5 hrs now, and I still haven't really WOKEN up today. why do i torture myself in this coffee-less day?

i am in no state of emotional crisis.
i have had plenty of alone time the last two weeks.
i have had great conversations with friends this week.
i painted, drank, and watched It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia last night.
i have made a menu, shopped for it, and executed our meals this week (in an effort to tighten back up on spending and calories).
i have a great weekend planned.*

so what's the dealio, little soulio?

nothing. absolutely nothing. this nothingness is what's wrong.

there are reasons to be a bit cranky (too much late night reading, my body is protesting to the 8-10 hrs a day i sit at a computer, this job is BOOORRRINNG as hell and most everyone is on vacation today so it's really quiet, money stresses me out, relationships unnerve me) but at the deepest part of my core, i know that today -

nothing is really wrong.
that's what's wrong.

ways i have entertained myself today thus far in my 8-5 grind:
~rekindled my interest in the Myers-Briggs research I am collecting - wherein i send out the test to all friends and family, compile their results into one color-coded smart little spreadsheet and analyze away!
~posted a
Visually Ink Lined blog
~emailed lots of lovely people for various reasons in my detail-driven life
~planned what i was wearing for each day of the weekend
~planned a menu and shopping list for next week's attempt to cut cost and calories
~walked to the mailroom and got mail
~bitched about it being friday with the UPS guy who always flirts with me

s'about it.

*weekend plans:
seeing family tonight and maybe a spontaneous dance party for
devon's bday
a road trip to Portland with ben and jess - it's supposed to be 98 freaking degreeeeeesss- i am gonna melt
a party to see our andrew and his new bride-ling
a sunday morning brunch in Portland
a box of peaches at mom's house
Want more? Just posted a bookling blog yesterday.


thy name

August 14, 2008 Candace Morris 0 Comments

thy name is joel.

such spice. such renewal. such

(i love being married to this saint)



"i wish i was the moon tonight"

August 12, 2008 Candace Morris 3 Comments

winter 08 summer 08

we really did have the most refreshing vacation with my bff, jackie - and this evening after returning has been very nesting and homey.

joelio and i are just a couple of happy foxes - burrowing into our foxhole tonight.

i make greek salads, he hangs jeremy's painting (finally - and our living room feels amazing), listens to Joe Pernice, and now I sit looking at him through happy, well-rested eyes thinking that my life is magical.

and this is why vacations are so necessary...we do love the people and places we visit, but nothing feels, tastes, or sleeps like home. i love how vacation makes you remember how content you are...

my view:

i have had some thoughts of late...and it was reiterated by Neko Case as she sang to me while I walked home from the grocery store.. "god blessed me, i'm a free man with no place free to go." and isn't this the truth about american privilege? we do not have to worry for our survival, water source, or food - but are instead cursed with the blessing of metaphysical thought. if only i could be content with the life i have been given instead of striving for the eternal what-if's surrounding my life. freedom can be such a curse, an illusion - and i feel anything but free most of the time.

i think we were created to want more - and i believe i live out my purpose in this, but sometimes i am weighted so heavily by the possibility and the privilege of the "anything is possible" american dream, truly believing that if i only read more, learn more, listen more, love more - then i can be deeply fulfilled.

but what if perhaps my deep fulfillment comes in the acceptance of myself outside of what i must do with my life and instead learn to sigh with breathy contentment at the magic that is candace - her loves, her losses, her now.

well, flitter flits, off i go to enjoy a slumber in my newly cleanest of sheets (how i love clean sheets) - but not before i scribble some words and enjoy the smell of a dear bookling.

writing cleanses this soul - and for the first time in months by golly,
i feel refreshed.

Going back to Cali - Aug 08


cheeseburgers and booze

August 06, 2008 Candace Morris 7 Comments

Before you do anything, read this. Then respond.

Okay, so back to what I was saying.

I am immensely proud of my will-power. I FINALLY went back to Weight Watchers after 1 month of avoiding the scale. I had been wavering b/w settling on this weight and then just toning up or trying to reach my goal - which would mean another few* pounds.

* purposefully vague so i can avoid the inevitable gushing: "oh-my-gawd-you-are-so-crazy-why-do-you-even-want-to-loose-any-more-weight-you-look-so-good-wanna-go-get-some-chocolate-cake?."

anyway. so the scale wasn't as bad as i imagined - and can easily curb some of the (3-5) drinks i have nightly in order to shed that weight. cough*easily*cough.

but last night, i swear to the gods, i was ATTACKED by demons of food. when i came home, i ate dinner w/ my hubby and helped myself to splitting some seconds with him. and then i took a little nappy and read my book - but all throughout the rest of the night, through a movie, through doing the laundry, through planning out my vacation to California, i wanted one thing.

a cheeseburger.

it's so uncouth to crave such silly icons of American culture, but i love me some cheeseburgers. it does NOT help to live five blocks from a great greasy, cheap cheeseburger stand - Seattle's famous Dick's Burgers. And THEN when I was watching Half Nelson (a pretty great watch, btw), there was a scene at a diner with french fries, cheeseburgers, milkshakes. This did not further the plot by any means nor did it have anything to do with anything, but- dear god the power of suggestion. (incidentally, i always crave what people are eating in movies/TV. Jess and I ordered Chinese food the moment we sat down to marathon the first two seasons of Sex In the City - guess what the girls were eating?)
So after seeing the characters chowing down on some tasty burgers, we totally would have walked up to Dick's, but didn't have any cash. (what the hell is WITH cash only places, anyway?! it's really f'ed up.)

So I am very impressed with myself b/c I didn't give into the cheeseburger. Though, looking back, it would have saved me all of the following calories trying to fill the cheeseburger-shaped whole inside.

1.5 burritos
1 tequila
2 glasses of wine
1 oatmeal cookie
1 s'more with peanut butter
1 giggle fest where joel holds me up over his head and then drops me on the bed
1 massage

You only WISH you had my discipline.

Also, I plan on NOT giving up alcohol this week (see post) because tomorrow joelio and i take flight to Redding, CA to see my bff - miss jackie and her two childs. I WAS going to see her hubby, but alas, he was called to a strike team yesterday (since the whole west coast is on fire this summer).

Hot Tub
Giggle uncontrollably
Pee our pants with laughter
See Andrew and Drink
Hang out with the kids

Yeah, that sums it up.

Have the happiest of the next five days - I plan to.


hope from a blossom

August 04, 2008 Candace Morris 2 Comments

i was looking at kelly's painting hanging in my house.
dont even think about trying to steal this image, if you do, i will probably go slasher on your asses

It bequeathed to this lady yet another breath yesterday, today, tomorrow - in this stage of sadness and deep introspection that life seems to hold for me right now. I embrace whatever stage I am in, but this doesn't mean I don't analyze it, so then if the phase of life has more shadow, i tend to analyze it even more - hence the exhaustion.

(who am I kidding? I analyze the hell out of happiness too.)

Inside, outside, high up, way down below -
everything seems a bit skewed,
somehow off.
however, this dearest work reminded me of a most simple principle:

You will bloom again.


here's lookin' at you, kid.

August 03, 2008 Candace Morris 1 Comments

ben and jess,
happy 6th anniversary.

we were babies then,
and it seems we are even more so now.
perhaps by the time our 50th comes around, we will have successfully understood
what it means
to be

by learning what it means to be children.

thank you for letting us laugh with you.
sob with you.
anger with you.
create with you.
care for others with you.
drink and eat with you.
fuck with you.
live with you.
die with you.

Your tenacity, passion, and humility strips me bare.


"myself. always myself." sylvia plath

August 02, 2008 Candace Morris 3 Comments

Saturday has brought with its normalcy a bit of benevolence for this melancholy gal.

it is the first weekend joel and i have had no formal plans since May 21...and we decided to spend it escape the pressure and restlessness of our home.

we walked for 4 hours, unaware of clocks and consciousness. it started with a lovely breakfast at B&O Espresso and then we just wandered in and out of some stores, but our ultimate goal was Interlaken Park, roughly 2 miles from our house. It is a gorgeous park with 51 acres of forrest smack in the middle of the city. I love this place.

On the way, I found a bookstore and walked right into a copy of The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath.
I then had a few moments to read her words. Her ancient voice sharpened my senses, awakened and pierced my desires...
"Anesthetizing myself again, and pretending nothing is there.
There is the curse of this vanity.
My inability to loose myself in a character, a situation.

Always myself. Myself."

I of course, bought her words, hook like and sinker...right on out the store.

We came home to a package from one of my oldest friends, Frankie. I cannot BELIEVE this gift.So, this is a book of Steinbeck's personal journal that he wrote to his publisher during the writing of East of Eden. He would use the letters as a warm up before he started into the novel. He kept them in the box you see on the cover, notice Timshol in Hebrew at the bottom. Frankie sent me a FIRST EDITION copy of this book, and I got sucked right in. My dearest Frankie, how you knew this would undo me. Many, many thanks.

"I shall tell my sons this story against the background of the county I grew up in and along the river I know and do not love very much. For I have discovered that there are other rivers. And this my boys will not know for a long time nor can they be told. A great many never come to know that there are other rivers. " p4

So it is through the rest of my evening that Joel and I find tired legs, happy working hands accompanied by Boards of Canada, and the wings of writers come before me.

How I long, how I aspire, how I dream.
Being a self-starter is a bitch.

I have a little question about photo preferences. Do you like viewing them on the external web page like I usually do or the slide show embedded in the blog, like the above?

~easing into the twilight,


musings of an alchoholic

August 02, 2008 Candace Morris 6 Comments

the beginning of friday night
the ending of friday night

i am feeling rather pitiful, this post midnight hour.

i am realizing of late that i think i drink too often. i want to try a week without. this week, the total count from monday night:
11 cocktails.

the problem with drinking = talking.

i talk way too much when i drink and then i ride all the way home and think, "oh dear god, i wish i hadn't said that." i cringe inside when the alcohol gives my hyper-critical internal voice the wings to let loose and fly around those i love.

what embarrassment is mine.

it also makes me feel sorry for myself.
why can't i make lovely things?
why can't i be someone else?
why. why. why am i entirely directionless and lost?

it's the most bewitching hour, and i think i will instead



one of these things is not like the other

August 01, 2008 Candace Morris 6 Comments

sorry the later image is pixilated - it was taken with my old phone.
(b/c i was talking on my new phone, duh.)

weekend plans, you ask? a whole lot of NOTHING...
this is what my nothing looks like:
  • dinner tonight at the newlywedded house of bliss. gag. :)
  • a day devoted to my house tomorrow
    (pay bills, organize the beast of my closet, rearrange kitchen, display j. kronbach's new painting, wash the sheets, sync my IPhone with ITunes (BOO), grocery shop, get new tires, make menu for next week)
  • go hang out with siblings at mom and dad's on sunday

    Yeah, it's a whole lot of nothing. :)

Since I will be the hostess with the mostess when you come visit my abode...
Prithee, answer me this:
What, my dear, is your drink of choice?!!!

Mine, you ask?
To start the night: Kettle One Martini. Straight Up. Stirred.
To finish the night: Oban. Neat.