and we may never be here again

Okay, it's true. It's likely that I will be in Gambier again (probably once in October, November and December), but I will never be here again in the same point in my life, where I wake up each morning in my room with an uncertain future. I think not knowing where I'll end up has made me appreciate home that much more. I probably won't live here again, but nothing will change the fact that it will always be home. I'm not sure why I'm so nostalgic about things (I can't get rid of anything, because I have an emotional connection to everything). But I suppose everyone is looking to find their own home, and I'm in a weird place- leaving one to find another.

I love taking the car out and driving around Gambier. I started doing it when I got the Saab, because I had the freedom to do so. Even the Ford took me out in the winters when I came home from school. There's nothing better than driving 65 on curvy, country hills with the windows down and blaring music. That would be one con of the city, I really can't do that anymore, and I'm assuming the bus isn't going to give me the same satisfaction.

So tonight, I drove up to one of the highest points in the village, and to the sound of crickets and the smell of freshly cut grass, I watched the sun go down one last time over Gambier.

ohio

I know I bitch and moan about Ohio, but this is what I'll miss.

a picture an hour

8AM - Wake up.

9AM - Morning walk.

10AM - Drive to Columbus.

11AM - Lunch with Rachel (!)

12PM - Milling about Easton.

1PM - Trying on clothes I can't afford.

2PM - Trying on cheaper clothes that I still can't afford.

3PM - Drive home.

4PM - Re-tool blog (I figured out how to get my pictures bigger! It only took me 3 months).

5PM - Continue the endless packing.

6PM - Finally get around to those pesky hand-wash-colds.

7PM - Dinner with Alison.

8PM - Late evening walk.

cleaned out

My room is starting to look depressing.

summer nights

I could always tell that summer was coming to a close by the sound of the crickets. It seems they get louder. This was always my cue that it was time to go back to school, but this year I'm going some place new, and I just couldn't be happier.

life magazine

I finally got the scans back on my old family photos. I'd thought I'd share...

Carper Family (they had 21 kids- in your face, Duggars)

red lights

i'll miss, i'll miss, i'll miss...

Late night drives back from Easton, my dear VW, and mismatched socks.

a note on fashion

So, imagine this outfit, but replace the mini with black, cropped ciggies (yep- I started wearing pants, y'all). Oh, shit did I think I looked good. I was on my way to babysit the depot, so I hop down the stairs and my mom stares at me. "Where...are you going?"..."The depot", I reply. "For the event". (Silence). "What's the event?". Me trying to be stylish: 0, World: 1.

So, skip ahead a few days, I'm wearing a plain black shirt dress that I bought from Wal-Mart. Boring + bad hair day means I wear my $3 blue bowler hat. According to Mt. Vernon standards, I thought I looked normal. Nope. I had so many stares in the grocery store. One woman just kept looking at me and smiling oddly until she told me my outfit was "interesting" (In my head: "Well, we all can't pull off the coral sweatshort/ flip-flop/teal floral tank top combo like you can."). One little girl saw me and proclaimed, "That girl is wearing a hat!".

Yes, my friends, that's my cue to leave this town. Apparently, we just can't get creative and look nice around here. I know I don't have the best fashion sense and I'm sure my friends question it on a daily basis, but come on. I can't even wear a fucking hat around here without it being a big deal. I've always been quite interested in fashion (although, looking back on my college/high school years, I looked terrible!). But it's become more of a passion than a hobby. It could be the fact that I read about 25 fashion blogs on a daily basis, have seen every Resort 2011 collection, or that I just have more self confidence now that I've lost close to 50 pounds (sheesh!). But I think my passion just outgrew this town.

I'm excited to move because I'm excited to see progression in my life, but also to see how my fashion changes too. I think I'll be more open to wearing what I want, without getting judgemental stares. I want to wear four inch heels everywhere. I want to wear bow ties, bowler hats, and bracelets made out of forks (thanks, Sach). I want to look like these people. I think the city is finally going to give me that creative freedom. Does that sound weird? I've never been good with words, but I'm good with clothes. Trust me.

let's light the sunrise

home reflections

home remodeling

weekend: depot babysitting and family findings

Just so you know, Betty (far right) was my grandmother and James (sitting on the fence) was my grandfather. They were both fashionably fabulous, and wonderful people. I wish I had got to know them better while they were alive, but digging through boxes of old family memories has given me a good idea of who they were.

I also found the documents from the Illinois State Archives that proves I am (super) distantly related to Abraham Lincoln, although it gets quite murky when Mordecai Lincoln has a son named Mordecai Lincoln, who names his son Thomas Lincoln, who then names his son Thomas Lincoln, but there are also cousins named Mordecai and Thomas Lincoln. But it's all there.

but there's a light that still remains

Do you ever get so in love with a song that you listen to it on repeat, and as hard as you try, you can't find yourself able to change to the next song? Promise is like that for me. This song is so tragically beautiful, I knew no photograph I could take could live up to it. So, instead, I think I had to show how I feel when I listen to it. The song itself is a tad melancholy, although it leaves me feeling warm inside. I guess it boils down to the basic human instinct of being wanted and loved, even through your darkest moments.

And while we're on the subject, not that you should ever take music advice from me, but if you haven't heard of Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, you need to. They're kind of a gritty version of Kings of Leon with a depression-era blues gospel influence, a.k.a the best kind of music in my book.

lights will guide you home and ignite your bones

As someone who feels like they are perpetually broken, this song is rejuvenating.

you don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows

I've been obsessed with this song all summer. I wonder what my subconscious is telling me.

calm through the window while the world woke up

Morning Song, Le Loup

This is about waking up at the perfect moment and today I woke up at 8:10 on August 10th (weird). But I always need to remember to appreciate those little moments in the morning, because I'll never get them back. Also, banjo trumps all other instruments.

ring ring, call 'em up, tell 'em about the new trends

Dare I say, that I'm going to have a little fun this week?
I'm constantly inspired by other art- paintings, sculptures, and especially music.
So I've deemed this music week, where I create a photograph based on a song. You may have to know/listen the song in order to "get" the photo.

Today, Rill Rill. Listen here.
I love this song. Charlotte suggested it to me a while back, and I still listen to it on repeat.

the suburbs (continued)

Bonus points to those who know what I've been listening to this weekend. (Kind of obvious).

the suburbs

darkly dreaming...

AAUUUGGGGHHHHH.

rainy day textures

directions