Give Yourself Gifts

CHICKS ROCK! is happy to welcome Cherise as a guest blogger:

Cherise is a Professional Interior Stylist and Lighting Expert. Her love for the individuality of people, a passion for design, and an adoration of the place we call home that fuels her work and her life.

A friend and I were talking today about her new home. She and her husband moved into their 2nd house 3 weeks before their first child arrived. Flash forward 9 months later: Packed boxes fill their home. With the arrival of their new baby, and being two hard working parents with full schedules, unpacking those boxes and getting settled hasn’t been their focus.

This summer when the baby turns a year old, they would love to host a house party to welcome family and friends to their home for the first time.

Like many of us, my friend has her ideas of the complete overhaul that is needed to one day turn this old home into their dream home.

my advice?

find happiness in your daily home life in the present

it’s so important for your sanity and health

give yourself this gift

Understanding that she craves a sense of organization (no surprise – most of us are not happy living out of boxes!), she admitted that it would make a big difference to at least gain organization in her daily home life. Rather than a complete home renovation, with a smaller investment of time and money she can get her home in order in the short term, and continue to make plans in the long term for the “dream renovation” where they can design new layouts and finishes.

I told her to focus on 4 things:

#1: Unpack everything. Get everything out of boxes first so you know what you are working with.

#2: Decide what to keep, and what needs to find a new home. Go through your items and make sure they have a reason to stay and a place to go. Some things will have an obvious place, and others may need to be re-purposed in order to make the cut.

#3: Organize & Rearrange. Now that you know what you are working with, make a list of areas that still don’t feel organized to you and create a plan to address these areas. You may need to invest some money in organization systems, but it will be money well spent. Next, design a space arrangement that supports all your key activities such as cozying up by the fireplace in winter, playing on the ground with the baby, watching the game, and having occasional guests visit.

#4: Continue to give yourself gifts no matter the size! There is something my friend has done to improve her space that is 100% on the mark! It cost her no additional money and minimal time, but helps her love her space and surroundings even in its current state of disarray.

She combined two items that had meaning for her: 1) hand picked tulips from her backyard that her husband planted as a surprise, and 2) vases she purchased from a recent trip they took together.

End result: She feels so good every time she looks at them – fresh tulips all season made by her husband with love. This is the gift that keeps on giving! Only she could know that this small improvement was going to be very special to her. She can enjoy it for all its beauty AND use it as motivation to keep working on the bigger items in her home, such as organization and redesign. Looking at them is a hopeful, encouraging reminder that her home space will continue to evolve into a place she loves.

I share this example with you because it is the essence of this blog:

create based on what has meaning to you

Making changes to the house is not always easy, but sometimes it’s gotta get done. As you press forward you have new opportunities to create more of these priceless expressions which are gifts for you to enjoy and will work together to make your house feel like a home.

What has meaning for you? Think about something you enjoy displaying. Or an activity you do in your home to relax and relieve stress, such as playing with animals, creating, cooking, being a coach potato, surfing the web, watching TV, drinking coffee or tea, listening to music, singing, yoga….

Maybe you have activities you do outside the home such as walking, biking, dancing, meeting friends for happy hour, playing sports…

Next time I will share a few things with you in my home that have meaning to me.

Originally posted at ispaci

Start at the Center

CHICKS ROCK! is happy to welcome Cherise as a guest blogger:

Cherise is a Professional Interior Stylist and Lighting Expert. Her love for the individuality of people, a passion for design, and an adoration of the place we call home that fuels her work and her life.

“home” can have so many different meanings

“home” is (but not limited to) …

comfortable

the place you should always be who you are

wonderfully built to support your lifestyle

If you’ve ever found yourself trying to take a living space – apartment, condo, bedroom, house – and transform it into a place that shares any of the above qualities, you may have asked yourself “Where in the world do I start?!”

Like many, you may have turned to the internet and searched the 100′s of beautiful design blogs online, or perhaps to popular television channels such as HGTV and DIY Network. These are great places to get ideas, but if you’ve walked away less than ready to make your dream home, keep reading. Often times you don’t need to look any further than yourself.

Homes are extremely personal places. They become personal not necessarily by starting with a “great idea,” but by starting with the person – you. If you don’t have any connection to the idea, no matter how great it seems, chances are it won’t serve a purpose for you in your daily life.

The first question to answer is:

who are you?

and the second is:

what will make you happy in the space?

The answers to these questions can look a LOT of different ways, as many ways as there are people.

Some people are ready with their own ideas, and others may feel like they don’t have any at all. No matter where you’re at, I’m here to help you uncover what’s inside and translate the YOU into your space.

by putting yourself at the center of your home design, you will create the home you feel most supported in and truly connected to

A quick break from serious stuff for a fun analogy!

i love wine

I enjoy a glass at home with my dinner, or while catching up with a friend, wine tastings at wineries, or to celebrate a special occasion. To set a good example, I’ll tell you that my love of wine is reflected in my South Philly home (or maybe not since wine doesn’t hang around long in my house!).

Recently I went to the best wine bar ever during a trip to see my big sister in St. Louis. At Robust Wine Bar they successfully demystified wine tasting for the average person, a feat that deserves an award in my opinion. Our waitress did an excellent job asking us questions to get a sense of what we liked. Next she made suggestions based on the information we gave her about ourselves. One of our friends at the table admitted she has wanted to try more red wines, but has been intimidated and unsure of which ones to try. The waitress made a suggestion based on her preferences, and gave her a useful tip on how to become more comfortable trying red wines: Start with the sweeter reds and work your way up to the drier reds to develop the palette slowly. She ended with “Keep in mind that the best wine isn’t what I like or what anybody else has told you to like. It’s what YOU think is the best one. That’s the best one. Period.”

In this moment she gave us permission to be ourselves – exactly who we were at that moment. Her ability to create a non-judgmental, free-to-be-me environment and to guide our decisions based on who we were and what we liked resulted in the most enjoyable wine tasting experience I’ve ever had. Fun. Relaxing. This is what wine tasting is all about.

Likewise, in your home it’s about being in an environment where you feel completely comfortable being yourself, and where you can hopefully have fun and relax too. As your guide, I will make suggestions on how you can work your way forward on this path based on who you are. There will be many opportunities to try new things, but no pressure!

what you choose for yourself is going to be the best thing for you

To demonstrate how you can make yourself central in your home, my next few posts will be focused on design ideas in my home that have “Cherise” in the center. In addition, we will be visiting the homes of some of my closest, most creative friends to give us a broad view on various approaches. I’ll include tips and questions you can answer to keep you pointed in the right direction.

(all pictures are from my Dec 2012 trip to Argentina – I did a bike tour of Mendoza wineries)

Originally posted at ispaci

Sweet Life in Paris

I've been in Paris for almost a month now and have yet to bake anything, which has made me feel like it isn't really "home" yet. Today that changed. I thought to myself "what would I make if Kim [Conte] came to visit?" and I knew it had to be something from David Lebovitz's The Sweet Life in Paris.

I refuse to admit how long it took me to translate my ingredients to French. 

Sadly, I'm staying in an apartment that has a working oven (YAY!) but no mixing bowls, measuring cups, scales, whisk, or adequate baking dishes (BOO!). So: Challenge.

Kim once said that she loves how I don't fret or panic in situations like these and I felt so touched, I never forgot it. Today, remembering that made me feel like Kim was in the kitchen with me, encouraging me to make it through this ridiculous challenge.

This is when I started talking to my egg whites. In bad French. "Mes oeufs! Vas-y!"

When it took me 30 minutes to decide that the amount of sugar I measured looked close to 1/3 cup and when I thought my arm would fall off trying to beat my eggs into submission with a fork, I thought maybe this was the worst idea ever. But I kept thinking of Kim and I stuck to it.

And the results? Delicious.

The Sweet Life in Paris: chocolate cake and salted butter caramel sauce.

I have no idea what David's (I decided we were on a first name basis somewhere between frothy eggs whites and soft peaks) gâteau Thérèse, chocolate cake, and caramel au beurre salé, salted butter caramel sauce, are supposed to look and taste like, but my dessert was delightfully delectable.

Originally posted at Friends in Knead

What We Remember

I opened Facebook today and at least half of my news feed started with "11 years ago today..." Almost all of those status updates are from people who were in college or school in New York 11 years ago today. There are also a handful of simple "I'll never forget" status updates, mostly from people who weren't here at the time. It may be a fluke limited to my Facebook friends, but it made me wonder what the difference is between our experiences.

I imagine that the "never forget" refrain is a given for those of us who were in New York when it happened and are still here now, because there is no way to forget. We remember it all the time: when we're in the Financial District or anywhere nearby, when we're in any part of the city with a clear view of the Freedom Tower, when we talk about the origin of the Tribeca Film Festival or the River to River Festival or a similar event...

But today, we remember the specifics.

Those "11 years ago today..." statuses talk about what class or period they were in when it happened or, for those who are older, what part of their commute they were on or what meeting they were getting ready for. Our memories are full of disruption, feeling disconnected, and a whole lot of waiting. Schools were on lockdown and you had to be signed out by a parent but it was hard to get in touch with your parents and all you could do was wait. If you made it out of school and weren't within walking distance, you were in for an incredibly long commute home as you noticed the rest of the city was also at a standstill... more waiting.

We remember relief when a classmate got through to his sister and found out she hadn't made it to the office yet. We remember the west wing of the cafeteria being closed off but still being able to see the smoke in the air. We remember our commute the next day and the gaping hole in the skyline. We remember how quiet and empty everything was the next day.

It's not that this day means more to us but the more time that passes, the more I notice that it definitely means something different. At some point today, when we close our eyes, we'll see or hear or smell something in this city so vividly that we'll feel 11 years ago is today. "Never forget" seems a waste of words after that.

I Don't Feel Like It

I don't feel like doing any of the things I'm supposed to do today. Work on my novel. Go to the library to do research. Post a new article or interview on my website. Monitor my social networking pages for updates. Tweet links to interesting things. Archive old emails. Revise my speaker brochure. Read a book. Slowly, I go down the list of activities that count as "work" for a children's author, until I end up at the very bottom of the list: Lie around and contemplate things.

Believe it or not, I actually do consider lying around and contemplating things part of my creative work, but there is only so much lying around a person can do before she starts to feel quite lazy.

When I was a kid, my mom occasionally allowed me to stay home from school under the guise of illness when we both knew perfectly well that I was not sick. She called the phenomenon a "mental health day," which I've since come to understand is a fairly common thing. I would stay in my pajamas, put on the television and veg.

I'm not quite sure what health benefit twelve hours of television really provides to a person, if any, but I admit I always found it more manageable to go to school the following day (no easier to get up and out the door in the morning, though) when I had taken a little break from the brain-taxing academic and social activities that filled the school day.

Today, I guess, I'd like to call in with a mental health day! I've been working crazy hours lately, trying to please my crazy boss (yes, that would be myself) and it is time for a bit of rest. Now, if I could only reach the remote control without actually getting out of bed...

Do you ever feel in need of a mental health day?

Community Easter

I'm still traveling this week, and spent Easter weekend visiting a friend of mine, one of the numerous cool, quirky, fabulous people in my life who happen to be spread around the country and so I only get to see them once in a rare while.

This particular friend and I go way back, back to the days when carefree weekends filled with silly games were par for the course, and both of us miss being surrounded by a community of close friends who we might see and hang out with at length on a daily basis, the way you do when you're young, in high school and college. We lament the fact that out here in the adult world we don't really know our neighbors, rarely interact with them except for the occasional pleasantries. Living in proximity to others no longer implies a shared sense of identity.

To celebrate Easter, my friend decided we should try to bring people together. Her initial idea was to leave treat-filled plastic Easter eggs around the building, for neighbors to find and enjoy. But we figured, in this day and age of terror and skepticism, who is going to eat "unknown" candy? It'd be better, we reasoned, to give a little message, or invite people to DO something. Thus, the Puzzle Project was born.

We placed puzzle pieces inside Easter eggs and left them on doorsteps around the building, inviting residents to come to the common area and help complete the puzzle. We put the edge pieces together to get things started, and let other people take it from there. We left a little sign-in book, in case anyone wanted to share comments or thoughts about the experience. By the end of the day we had received several notes and the puzzle began to come together! People seemed intrigued, and happy to participate in an unusual group activity.

We hope the Puzzle Project might inspire our neighbors to meet new friends, but mostly we hope it made other people feel as good as it made us feel!

Hometown Pride

When I go home to the place I grew up, it's always nice to see familiar things. To eat in familiar restaurants, shop in stores that don't exist elsewhere, and generally re-experience the best sights, sounds and flavors of my childhood.

One of those flavors happens to be DeBrand Fine Chocolates, a small (you guessed it) chocolate maker based in Fort Wayne, Indiana. Best. Chocolates. Ever. I say this as a person who isn't always a big chocolate fan. I always choose vanilla ice cream. When it comes to candy bars, I'm more likely to go for sweet and fruity Skittles rather than bitter dark chocolate. But I do love DeBrand. They make everything, from simple filled chocolates to elaborate mounded truffles and exotic designer chocolates. All tasty.

Despite appearances, I'm not trying to be an advertisement for DeBrand here. As a kid, I didn't even know DeBrand was a local company that people might not have heard of. I assumed they were everywhere. So when I grew up and learned that this special treat was Fort Wayne-specific, I was a little disappointed. They always seemed bigger than that to me.

I'm especially fond of DeBrand's new Faces of Diversity chocolates, which feature light to dark chocolates molded in the shape of faces. About a year ago, I saw these particular chocolates featured in O magazine in their "Look What We Found" feature, which shows off little novelty gifts and accessories.

I remember feeling so proud of seeing a Fort Wayne thing appear in a national magazine. Unaccountably proud. I remember thinking how neat it was that something from my hometown had come to the attention of someone as influential as Oprah. (Okay, that might be a stretch--it's doubtful that she takes note of every detail even in her own magazine.) But I was having a particularly rough day, as I recall, and it meant something to me, to see a little box of chocolates I knew well had made it to the big time. It sounds cheesy, maybe, but it gave me hope.

At home over the holidays, I received a Faces of Diversity box for Christmas. I'm still savoring them, bit by bit!

New Surroundings

I've now been living in my new apartment and neighborhood for almost two months, and I am finally getting to a place where it feels like home.

Despite the fact that a few of my Queens friends still feel I betrayed them by moving to Brooklyn, they've joined me in getting to know the neighborhood. For example, one friend took the time to organize a Brooklyn bar crawl, insisting that it would be a great way to start that process. She was right, of course, as we walked, ate, and drank our way through Brooklyn neighborhoods. Going to Target First Saturdays at Brooklyn Museum was also a lot of fun. While I had been there before, this was my first trip there since moving here and it was great to have people stop at my apartment first, walk over, and then eat out at a local spot afterward.

I've spent significantly less time in my own apartment. Between having friends inconveniently located an hour or so away and not having air conditioning through one of the hottest summers ever, it often made more sense to stay out rather than to take the trip back home.

Well... at least that was the case before this past weekend when the threatening hurricane gave my roommates and I a chance to spend nearly 48 uninterrupted hours together, give or take a few hours for sleeping. We watched movies, talked about dates and relationships, and generally got to know each other a bit better while also cooking and making cocktails together. I still haven't taken advantage of my awesome backyard, but I'll be sure to do that before it gets chillier.

All in all, I think I'm doing a good job adapting to my new surroundings. How do you go about adjusting to a new place?

Weathering the Storm

The would-be hurricane-turned-tropical-storm that hit the East coast this weekend blew by me without too much notice. Windowpane-rattling gusts, a bit of water leaking around my window frames, and the mild anxiety of what-if-it-all-gets-worse was the worst of it for me. I'm lucky.

Actually I'm extremely lucky that my "natural disaster" experiences in life have largely skewed toward fun as opposed to devastating. Growing up in the Midwest, we faced tornado warnings in the basement for a few nights every summer, which always felt like a fun adventure sleepover to me. I've survived a bunch of snowstorms in various parts of the country, tremored in two different earthquakes, and now I have a hurricane under my belt to top it off. I'm a believer in prepare-for-the-worst-but-hope-for-the-best, and this attitude has worked out very well for me over time. I like having stories to tell about unusual occurrences, but I'm not the type to go out looking for trouble when reason dictates that it's best to stay home.

This weekend I stocked up on water, canned goods, and more food than I can reliably eat in a three-day period, hunkered down with my favorite DVDs and hoped the power wouldn't go out. It didn't. I watched news coverage with my hurricane buddy (a.k.a. my brother, who evacuated to me from a low-lying part of the city) feeling nervous that we'd hear reports that his neighborhood flooded. It didn't.

I feel grateful that the worst of the storm didn't reach us, even while I feel deep sympathy for those who were most affected. I feel grateful that I got to spend some uninterrupted, no-real-choice-about-it time with someone who I don't get to see as often as I'd like. I'm grateful for the roof over my head and all the little comforts of home that I enjoy, even though I often find myself grumbling about what else I need, or how things could be better. All I know is, I successfully weathered Irene, like all the storms before her. I have no idea if my luck with such things will continue, because the future is unknowable, but for now I'm content to feel grateful for what I have: a home, a family, a well-stocked fridge and a world of blessings at my fingertips...because many are without these things today, and if that isn't enough to remind us what's important, maybe we will never really learn.

What are you grateful for, in the wake of your dance with Irene?

Home Sweet Home

As I'm writing this, I'm sitting in my new apartment, surrounded by boxes and bags full of everything I own. I realize that doesn't sound particularly note-worthy to anybody else, but I've spent the last several months either traveling or living with my things scattered across New York. I had furniture, and clothes in Manhattan. I had pots, pans, dishes, and a really heavy cutting board in Brooklyn. I had clothes, toiletries, makeup, and jewelry with me in Astoria. Oh, and there were enough shoes and books spread across all three of these places to fill up several boxes and bags, and even then I had to leave a ton behind.

So now that I'm sitting on my new bed in my new apartment with everything in one place, I'm feeling like it should be documented somehow because it feels strange to say: I'm home now. 

When I say to people that I'm home, they'll no longer need to ask which place I mean. When they want to borrow something from me, I can say yes without needing to add "well, I need to see which apartment it's in first..." When I need something mailed, I'll be able to give one address rather than saying "well, it depends on what it is and when you send it..."

I got so caught up in the stress of organizing this move, I hadn't taken any real time to reflect on what it would mean, that I now have a home.

Home. Weird.

Have you ever lived a bit like a nomad? How did it feel when you were all in one place again?

From Calm to Chaos

The summer is supposed to be a time to have fun and relax, but it doesn't always work out that way. There seems to be some sort of cosmic law where things are completely calm for entirely too long and then completely chaotic for even longer. I'm talking the type of calm that starts out nice until you're so starved for action and drama, you're watching Mob Wives reruns when normally you don't even watch tv. And I'm talking the type of chaos that starts as a series of good news until you're praying life will miraculously stop for just five minutes so you can breathe.

This is more or less what the last few months have been like for me. To be clear, my "calm" was still hectic, but at least it was some level of normalcy. My chaos? Well, let's break that down...

By July 11th, I will have had a performance (and tons of practice leading up to it), two trips, my mother's surprise 50th birthday party, two moves (one to a temporary place, one to my new apartment), and the start of a new job. All in less than two months. And, if we're getting specific here, the two moves, one of the trips, and the new job are all happening in less than two weeks.

Mid-July will bring birthday celebrations for a few friends, adjusting to my new place, and getting to know my new co-workers. But after that? I have lofty plans of going into a hibernation of sorts, declining invitations, catching up on work, and spending time being lazy and taking a breather.

What has your summer been like so far?

Rise and Rebuild

CHICKS ROCK! wants you to welcome Bridget back as a guest blogger this week:

Bridget is a recent graduate of Vassar College, where she studied Political Science and Women's Studies, and former TWM intern. She loves watching movies with her younger brother and playing rugby.


For the past few months, I’ve been working at a homeless women’s shelter in the 9th Ward of New Orleans. Although it can be emotionally overwhelming to live surrounded by such poverty and heartache, my experience has been positive because of the connections I have built with residents and new friends alike. If I have discovered anything here, it is that New Orleans and its residents are an incredibly heartfelt, resilient people. They are committed to keeping up traditions and celebrating their successes. It would be an understatement to say that this Mardi Gras season, coupled with the Saint’s World Championship, has been an ongoing party in the streets. They take their celebrating very seriously here!

In reality, the quality of life here in the 9th ward could be disheartening. There is a deep sense of lawlessness, abandonment, and raw sadness. The legacy of slavery and inequality have never been made more apparent or felt so immediate to me. Yet, despite the crime, lack of resources, and other adverse conditions, New Orleanians are consumed – obsessed, even – with hosting community meetings, parades, and other social events. I think there’s an unspoken understanding that everyone who has come back into the city has a responsibility to contribute to its rebirth, whether it’s through painting murals on buildings that create a collective social memory, having brass bands play traditional music on street corners, or just getting a local library card. These small acts are big statements that keep alive a sense of Home and Spirit.

The reason New Orleans is staying alive and even thriving right now is because of the resiliency and passion of its residents. If it were not for the strong sense of community and home, I fear it would just be another devastated, abandoned city. But, of course, New Orleans continues to prove itself to be much more than that and I’m proud and privileged to call it my new home.

Going Home Again

I've been enjoying vacation these past weeks in my hometown in Indiana. I will say, though, that the longer I've lived away from home, the more striking it is to return. There are lovely things, like spending quality time with family and friends; poignant things, like visiting favorite childhood places; and familiar-yet-surprising things, like noticing more than ever how often I end up being the only person of color in a shop or restaurant.

I wasn't always aware of the homogeny of my surroundings. As a kid, it was pretty much all I knew, and I didn't give it a second thought. I never felt as severely "different" in public as I must have appeared. Now that I'm seeing the place through new eyes, I can't help but wonder what kind of effect growing up there actually had on me.

When I'm visiting home, people often ask if I like New York, which is an easy "Yes." But sometimes they ask more specifically what I like about New York. No offense to the die hard New Yorkers among us, but I've never quite been able to put my finger on it. I usually mumble something about "diversity" and "opportunities," knowing that somewhere in there is the actual truth.

I can give or take most things about my new hometown, NYC, but I like looking around and seeing all shades of brown faces. I never wanted it to be that simple, but I think that's what it comes down to for me. Not feeling so alone in a crowd, or like a sore thumb sticking out, trying not to bump anything. Small things in small moments that add up to something bigger.

I used to think the saying “you can’t go home again” meant that something about your home changed while you weren’t looking. Once you step outside of a place, your relationship to it is different. Forever. Home may not have changed, but I have.

Feels Like Home

It's now been over a month since I moved to my new place in NYC, so I figure an update is in order. The move itself was stressful and tiring. For some reason, we all thought it'd be fun and cost-effective if our friends helped us move and set up the apartment rather than hire movers. Not recommended. It has provided laughs as we look back, but the lack of sleep, sore muscles, and snapping at each other at the time was not exactly the "fun" we had in mind.

We did settle in eventually. Alright, that's not entirely true. We went through all of our boxes and tried to get rid of anything we didn't need anymore. However, we still have several boxes of clothes to give away and recycle, and a box of things we have no idea what to do with. Our closets are a mess because we've just been shoving things into them. We don't have a couch or any chairs either. But aside from all of that, our apartment is live-able, more or less.

Part of the reason we haven't finished settling in, though, is because we've been too busy enjoying our new neighborhood! In our old neighborhood, everything closed early, we needed a cab to get groceries done, and there wasn't a real park anywhere in sight. Here, I've been going out in the sun to get work done and to read, and my guy has been playing sports in the parks. We've been trying out the local restaurants and delis, eating a different type of cuisine each time. We have green markets and several places to get groceries done. Overall, a huge improvement.

It will take a while longer to really get comfortable in our apartment, but I'm happy so far. It definitely feels like home.

A Leap of Intention

I’m sitting surrounded by boxes. I’ve decided—while the market is slow—to take the leap that I’ve been eager to take for quite awhile: moving to a new apartment.

I’m thrilled and excited. The new place is a tad bigger, freshly remodeled, and overall a drastic improvement. I’ve been unhappy with my current apartment for years now, yet something always held me back from moving. Now I’m glad I waited.

Beyond the physicality of the space, there’s a deeper benefit I feel growing within myself when I think about this move. Many of my big life decisions have been made with fingers crossed, a deep breath, and a jump into the unknown. I’m good at leaps of faith. They’ve served me well.

This move has arisen from a different place. I know what I want now, and how I want to live. The future is no longer a blank page of pure possibility. If designing the life of your dreams is like painting a picture, I believe I have all the dark lines in place: the outlines, the broad strokes, the beginnings of what this thing will be. I see the full image in my mind’s eye, and every step I take toward it fills in a bit of color. This decision, at this time, has brightened things considerably.

That said, moving is proving to be a greater reality check than I had expected or even hoped for. I mean this in the best possible way. For a clutterbug such as myself, it’s a huge challenge to look at every single item in my space and have to give it a thumbs up or thumbs down. But I’m going about this move with intention—the things that come into the new space will be things that further my goals and bring pleasure to my life, nothing that detracts.

I don’t know what the future holds. I can only wait, and hope, and strive, and imagine. Keep painting that picture. I feel myself moving one step closer to something bigger, better and very worthwhile. A new chapter is beginning...

My Apartment, the Junk Yard

As I mentioned a few weeks ago, I'm moving into Manhattan this summer. Unfortunately, my travel schedule prevented me from getting anything done, so I've had to cram it in to this last week. I've been cleaning, packing, cleaning some more, moving everything, and then doing it all over again -- I'm utterly exhausted.

As it turns out, in addition to our love of books, another thing Pauline, Kekla and I have in common is our clutter. Looking around my apartment in the last week, I realized I have quite the junk problem. As I started to take things out of their nooks and crannies, piles began to form of things I don't need, don't want, or forgot I even owned. I had clothing which has never and will never fit, shoes that looked like they would fall apart if I walked more than five blocks, and trinkets I should have thrown out years ago.

After forming several of these piles, and filling up at least a dozen garbage bags, I had to ask: how did I end up with all of this? Why is it that we collect these things when it would be easier to get rid of them? My junk consisted mostly of souvenirs, free t-shirts, pamphlets from organizations I've never heard of, and wedding-related books and magazines.

So I started piles: things of value (sell/swap), things in good condition I've outgrown (donate), and things nobody on earth wants (trash). Of course, even after throwing out a lot, there's more I need to get rid of once the unpacking begins. I have a lot of clothing to recycle -- did you know you can recycle clothing? I'm organizing a clothing swap with friends to get rid of what doesn't fit me and replenish my now non-existent wardrobe. Sadly, I'll also have to go through the ten boxes I filled with books, because I can probably sell or donate most of those. (Anybody need a chemistry textbook? Social psychology perhaps?)

When was the last time you went through your junk? Is it time for a fresh start?

Celebrity Moments

I'm discovering that there are several layers of strangeness to being an author. One is the simple fact that this thing I have written is out there for the world to read and do with as they will. Strange. Another is that people -- especially kids, who are my main audience -- now think I'm famous. Strange.

Part of my job as author is to connect with my young readers, which usually happens through author visits to schools and libraries around the country. I went to my hometown, Fort Wayne, Indiana, to visit some libraries and I was shocked -- shocked, I tell you! -- by the enthusiastic embrace of my young friends. Most of the children and teens I visited hadn't ever met a person who had written a book and actually had it published. I was a demigod.

The littlest ones, elementary schoolers, stared at me with wide, disbelieving eyes. They put out their hands to touch my skin, as if testing to see whether I was real. Some of the teens were easily engaged. Others sat sullenly in the back, feigning disinterest, but remaining suspiciously quiet throughout my talk. Most of them hadn't read the novel in advance. But at the end, every single one of them jumped up, eager to have their picture taken with me and the book.

To be honest, I could give or take the celebrity treatment, though it was certainly flattering and fun. What meant the most to me in those moments was knowing that at least a child or two had their world broadened. They saw for a second that an author is a real person that you can touch with your hand and laugh with. Maybe a child or two will be inspired to write their own stories. Maybe one or two of them will feel as though their dreams are not so far out of reach.

Making Moves

One of the most stressful things about renting is figuring out what to do when your lease is up. Do you stay in the place you've called home for at least the last year (often longer)? Or do you go through the apartment-hunting process all over again?

After living outside of New York City for almost two years, my guy and I decided it was probably time to make the move into Manhattan. The cost of our commute is killing us, and we figured we'd end up saving money paying a higher rent in New York. We found a friend to share the space with and set out to find THE place to move to.

We looked at a few listings, and visited a couple of apartments, but nothing that called out to us. We anticipated a long apartment hunt, at least lasting a couple of months, but after just a few weeks of looking, we already found a place! It was almost love at first sight. The neighborhood is nice, there are many more restaurants, shops, and banks near by than any of us are used to, and the commute to work won't be hard. Even though we still have to think about logistics -- new furniture, insurance, coordinating the move, etc. -- we're very excited about the move and happy to see how smooth it's been.

We're all still surprised at how quickly things happened for us, but we're also stressed out about what will happen a year from now when we have to start this up all over again. Apparently, the fact that we aren't even moving for another two months does nothing to relieve our anxiety over the next time we repeat this process.

Have any of you had to move recently? Do you find that it gets easier or harder to go through the steps each time your lease is up?

Inupiaq Voices

I watched a documentary recently that rather blew my mind: Nipaa Ilitqusipta - The Voices of Our Spirit, produced and directed by Rachel Naninaaq Edwardson. The film screened in NYC and features the Inupiaq community in Barrow, Alaska. It studies the history that led to the decline of their language. Personal interviews illuminate the struggle to reclaim a language whose loss began a few decades ago when Native American children were pulled from their homes and forced to attend assimilationist boarding schools. In that environment, they were denied their traditions and made to feel shame about their culture. Consequently, those indoctrinated couldn’t bring themselves to teach their language to their own children.

It’s a uniquely Inupiaq narrative, yet, by chasing the story of one specific culture in one small corner of the world, the film touches on universal themes of home, family, self, and the search for identity. I sat, slightly weeping throughout the film because it hit pretty close to home.

I admire the film’s ability to touch emotions in someone who has no knowledge or experience of the Inupiaq culture. I was utterly caught up in the narratives, and I felt that the film was somehow telling my story, or at least part of it. The part that wishes I spoke my father's language, or my maternal grandmother's. The part that wants to travel to far reaches of the world and feel that I belong.

I'm finding I'm not alone in this feeling. It doesn't seem to matter what culture we have in our backgrounds - young Americans of many flavors are searching. Wandering. Hungry. Something has happened. Something has kept us from learning these truths. Something has happened, and we are being robbed. I wonder if we spend our entire lives hunting for puzzle pieces – a collection of words, thoughts, feelings, experiences that’ll tell us who we are and what it all means. I watch a film like this and I realize that, no matter how far I’ve come, I’m still searching. There’s a history that I carry, which I feel, but that’s ultimately unknown to me.

Where else should I be looking?

Spring Cleaning

It feels like spring is finally on its way. As a result, I’m suddenly itching to get my apartment in tip-top shape. This is strange, because I’m not the sort of person who steadfastly believes in spring cleaning, or anything related to it, but this year it seems like this would be a good time to poke around the closets, sort through some paper piles, sell some books back to the Strand, and the like. (To be honest, this desire is not unrelated to the fact that I have an out-of-town friend coming to visit in a couple of weeks!)

A while ago, Pauline posted about battling clutter. My space, too, tends to get crowded with books, papers, clothing, etc. New York City apartments are small, of course, so it’s instinctive to think that there just isn’t enough space. But really there’s just too much stuff. Much that I probably don’t need. With the economy the way it is, I’ve been careful lately about my purchases, which I think has made me more aware of the things I already own.

Browsing in the bookstore last weekend, I bought a book about organizing and clearing out clutter. It advocates drawing a pretty harsh line between what you actually need and use, and what is extra. Seems great, right? Everything would be streamlined if I followed these directions. But at a time like this, when I still want to be careful about what I buy, I also want to be careful about what I throw out.

We pack-rats save stuff for the day when we might need it. Or for the day when we might not be able to get it elsewhere. It kind of feels like those days could be coming. Let’s hope not, but how do you justify getting rid of potentially useful things (clothes, etc.) when money is tight?