Categories
Environmental

Winter to Spring in a few days

This was the scene out of our front window last Wednesday. Over the weekend I took a run in shorts and had my plants sunning in the outdoors.

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We aren’t far off from spring, I hope!

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Categories
About Me

Why I’m glad I’m not a Teenager Anymore

Why I’m glad I’m not a teenager anymore.

A toddler will be entertained with a zipper for an hour. Teenagers enjoy socializing with friends at the mall. Old ladies love flowers. People of all ages play golf. Different hobbies entertain all different kinds of people. The way a person spends their time differs with age and is related to the freedom we perceive.

While watching ‘Lost in Translation’ I noted the age of the two main characters and their situations that put them in a similar place to cross paths.  The difference between the two characters was how they entertained themselves during free time. Scarlett Johansson’s character enjoyed self-help books on tape. Travels in a new city lead her to Buddhist temples and flowering dog trees in the tea forests of Japan. Bill Murphy’s character mocked the job that brought him to Tokyo and spent time golfing or floating around the pool in between spending nights at the hotel bar. The bar is where Johansson and Murray meet to exchange an automatic, almost too familiar, connection that brings the rest of the movie to life.

This comparison of characters began to paint lines in my observations dividing age and the differences in how time was spent during different times of life.

When I think of life without responsibility, no worry, free-minded, untethered people I think of a little boy I spied on once. The memory is a battle between a boy and a bush. The bush is winning, woody branches have grown taller than the boy’s front porch and he is in full combat. Swinging his bat to the base of this plant, the boy charges into its leafy arms, only to get whipped in the face by an elastic arm. But, he isn’t giving up. One more spin move, his dance electrified from the open grass he stomps, and he is full fledge back into the hedge. It looked like fun, therapeutic, to throw yourself into your front beds and to come out alive! A better man. So went his routine until dinner time, a guaranteed event to cut the fun short. The shrubs don’t stand in the way of anything we need, any security of food or home, and if we were to look at the situation for enjoyment you see he only got caught in imagination, the bush was an army against him and he was able to take it on. It was time for the play that determined the outcome. Everyone needs this time to realize day dreams. He acts because there isn’t a bargain for time. There is ample time –and too much of it frankly, waiting around for the adults to catch on.

I remember a time growing up when all of my belongings were cataloged, my tapes were a collection of radio recorded songs that I had the patience to wait for and then alphabetize. I remember that I also collected paint chips from Wal-Mart, drawing the same ranch-style dream home over and over. There were Barbie empire weekends, designed to keep our younger brother out of the room, and Lego land. My sister and I built precisely with every plastic block, taking so long we never did play or act in Lego land. These times were in lazy summers, the ones that don’t exist into your late twenties. After college, you are lucky to plan free days about one weekend a month when you must plan to do nothing at all.

So, six-year-olds are content to make enemies out of the hedgerow all day and build lands that won’t ever be played with. The next years of life begin to incorporate learning how to survive, including a job, perhaps an education, volunteering, boards of the local do-good venture, service, kids, food, house, etc…an endless amount of things piled on until the strain of our body contorts us.  We become stressed out people who need to find a balance in all of this abundance. Life becomes faster.

To ‘slow’ it down we must strike a balance. Consciously let yourself go unplanned as you get older and realize that this is how the young and the wiser spend their time, proving that success happens on the inside. It takes age to grow into that confidence.

If a different path presents itself this opportunity causes a personal evaluation. If a chance arrives to seek your profession, refine your gifts, or be influenced into a new search, then change. What a teeming experiment being mildly distracted is. Step back and be conscious of the situation you are working for. Write about it. Perhaps there are goals to obtain and change is initiated by your own determination. Young adults growing into their forties are finally free to roam different paths and they begin to mold into unexpected grooves.

These adults seem to know how to enjoy their free time, dinners with the family, watching a show, traveling to the sun, relaxing in a way that has become common to them. They are involved with children and a school community while taking upon the responsibility of friends. Desires and hobbies turn into volunteering. Finally comfortable with who they are, adults partake for the second time in their life an unprescribed happiness. The imagination leads them. The lingering uncertainty allows room for being flexible in the moment. Not only does getting older provide an acceptance into retirement, we also grow into the customs of our aging mind. ‘Territoriality in humans is more related to the needs of self-identity and freedom of choice.’ a

Youthful life is devoted to finding something to define yourself by –and if you are lucky you may find it in good work. This age group is busy trying to find out what will sustain them. It’s age in the mid-twenties before one begins to worry about supporting their enjoyments and securing a future. That is, securing a future within the pressures of what our society expects of us. But, for those who want something more, who are thirsty for helping, climbing, experiencing, working, searching, the searching becomes equally exhaustive because there are a lot of options. If a young adult doesn’t have a firm grasp on how to control, stabilize and finance themselves by this age, they’d better catch on quickly. Work becomes a time to enhance our personal being through what we do. If one isn’t fulfilled in what they do, this generation of workers, staring around year 2000, isn’t afraid of moving to make the change. So, for the young working adult, we spend our time trying to earn worth out of our work. Once through this life period, aged adults begin to enjoy more time with their family, invite the neighbors over, and relax by playing tennis. Free time spent during one period transitions into something else. Take note of how an older generation passes the time. Perhaps they have fulfillment figured out.

The ability to realign yourself and alter or deepen the path you are on seems to get harder and harder the older people become. You receive the experience of a working adult. Other people’s opinions have steadfast influence. This can become more and more complicated unless you find a way of dealing with it. Thinking things out and giving yourself time to do so until they are no longer problems, is necessary. Financially, entertainment, enjoyment… are we not lucky that these are our needs? I have riches in food, shelter, and safety. This is what the older person has determined for themselves and are therefore enjoying in the time of fifty years.

Getting older means that one year is fractionally less and less of your time. As these responsibilities and obligations add up the more the busy-ness seems like nonsense. Amidst searching for yourself you begin to give up! What we should do instead of allowing responsibilities to impede, is take time to digest and order the things that are important.

If there are a few things to keep in order, make a quick list. My list begins with my health and house. Eat healthy, have fun with friends and incorporate exercise into your ever becoming sedentary way of life. There are family obligations, friends’ weddings, babies, career change, moves, layoffs and opportunities galore. Enjoy.

I want to have the ability to watch over myself. Goals of the day make big resolutions for the week and fare well when they stack up into years. I try to be myself everyday.  I do that by taking the time to be conscious of myself in an honest evaluation. Only I am in control of where I put myself, and only I can enjoy the free time I allow myself to have.

a  Architecture Registration Exam (ARE) 4.0 review pg 38.
Categories
About Me Architecture

Fabric Obsessed

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I am inspired by fabric. Expressed in the threads you wear are a sense of style, a type of daring, a piece of your inside feelings expressed externally. For some time I’ve wanted to reupholster my couch. It’s a tan Ikea model with a nice shape, but without a personality.

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Upholstery

{found on Pinterest}

poet sofa

Some fabric companies I consult with are below… am I missing any?

Designtex

Exterior Designer Shades

Mecho Shade (Interior / Exterior)

Lutron (Interior / Exterior)

Earth Shade www.earthshade.com

Arc-Com Fabrics        Artemis

Brentano Fabrics        Artemis

Solucent Exterior Shades by Cambridge Architectural

Dressage and Strata by Conrad UV Shades of Natural Fibers

Fabric by Distinctly Duralee

Curtain Works

Lee Jofa

Raoul

Lisa Fine

Katerina Tana

RP Miller

Twigs

Marcie Bronkar

Kerry Joyce

Off White Castle

Le Gracieux

Kathryn M. Ireland

Carolina Irving

Jasper

Katie Leede

Rose Tarlow

Peter Dunham

Ferrick Mason

Fabricut

High Fashion, La St. Tx

Mood Fabrics

Anzea fabric, recycled

Custom Fabric on Demand

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Categories
Community Poetry

Blues Fest Tear Down, again

villamagna_bluesMan2Bob Villamagna’s  BluesMan II

August 15, 2011

Blues Fest Tear Down, again

The voices have faded now

the reverb of drum and Jazz bounced

reflected until the slightest sound

no longer be heard

bounced to silence

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The oil slicks are washing away

in colorful shades of the rainbow

where the cars were piled

cars and vans who had traveled

with flashy bumper stickers

exclaiming in their overuse

their own attention, like wallpaper print

a language of tattoos

translating to me

a new genre of people following bands

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The city had been alive with thousands of people

the crowd before the stage never ceased,

moving, colliding with one another in a hypnotic

motion, feeling like a lifted spirit

capturing a joy felt within, from being around so many people

doing the same thing

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The heart beats on as the lyrics continue

as they leave Wheeling

somewhere else they play the blues

mouths wording a continuation of where we left off

Sunday night as the sky faded and clouds parted

into a pink hoola hoop lying on the horizon,

capturing, along with the river

moving us all, at the same time, in one languid motion

the essence of the blues taking hold

dance together, as people worked together

the reason of the blues grabbing us in one shared movement

to reveal that the soul has remained the same,

and more powerful if we can live like this, together.

~

Visit the Wheeling Heritage Music BluesFest 2013 this August!

Categories
Poetry Travel

Bologna, Italy

Bologna Italy

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Madonna di San Luca

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To do as those in Bologna do.

Ancient archways hold a long arched hallway along the street

lead to San Luca church, a place the provides a space

for meditation, a journey there.

Bologna was built for people needing to get somewhere.

It wasn’t some place for a tourist

but it shows how Italians judge time.

It is a city of movement, of hallways and

few open piazzas where the old tower of Bologna stands

in the center.

At 7:30 the large grafittied iron shutters roll down

the crazy long hallways close the city in on us

make us lost in a labyrinth of running.

Categories
Poetry Travel

Venice Night

Venice Night

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Venice Night

He walked with a wet leg into the Museum of Modern art

with me

women were sewing large sails at a huge scale

in painting

men were carved, forever carrying the weight of a detailed pediment

their muscular bodies know strength.

There are women too, in these sculptures

stepping off stone bowls to show muscle and body contortion

just holding on.

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In the evenings the brightly lit windows

reveal frescos on the ceiling

plaster molded details in the rafters

the reflective waters bounce the dinner scenes

on the canal and through out the entire city

looking up at Venice

from the view of an ocean.

Categories
Poetry Travel

Venezia

Venezia

Venice is a rubbed painting

that reveals a lost era.

Water floods and recedes

marking its territory in deliberately carved ripples

of marble.

The terrazzo floors are sloping

the timber structures giving out

falling with five stories weight into the Adriatic.

Symphonies play in San Marco

it’s the end of the world – a last show,

to remember.

For six dollars you can stay at a table where they serve coffee or wine.

In other places

up against the canal, where there are small plazas

and most often restaurants, you can eat

an early pizza for lunch, have some wine.

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The city is a mask of skin with hollow eyes

pull your face from the lime light

hide behind the curtains, your nose last to leave.

What’s left in the shell of the blue light?

A city of fantasy and flying creatures

vendors willing to talk in English and Italian in waves if

you make a drawn-out purchase.

Here, our seams were open to one anther – I

bartered for a scarf, my husband found a museum with French directions

yelled from a window, then

he slipped into the canal trying to make me laugh.

Categories
Poetry Travel

Firenze (Florence Italy)

No, I’m not in Florence, as this lovely lady has been recently,

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but, I am still remembering my honeymoon there over a year and a half ago…

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Firenze

Worn stairs climbed from a walled off city to us

until now

The domed city capped the night off

in a spectacular array of people and gray

brilliant orange over a sparkling river.

The rain fell swiftly around three

the night was misted, no longer wet.

We ate papa pomodoro at Theatro Restaurante

late that evening before returning to our room on piano 2.

Two days and one night in our favorite Italian city so far, Firenze.

That morning

we’d stepped off of an early train and found our hotel easily.

The heavy wooden door unlocked

a green dim courtyard open to the sky

up two flights and through another

keyed entry is where we found our

beautiful comfortable room, red clay tile floors,

a sink, a big bed with a Michelangelo painting

of the Sistine chapel hung over it. The heavy key,

a window with shutters out to our quiet courtyard.

I did laundry in the sink and packed for our bike ride adventure

onward to Sienna the next day.

We walked to the Duomo and climbed to see the city

from there and then went to eat an early lunch at a pizza place on the piazza.

There were places around many corners where I felt I’d been

I’d taken photos in this same place eight years ago

where there was a replica of Michelangelo’s David.

There were rioters and posters telling the ‘truth’ to tourists of people who

Florence didn’t want.

We walked aimlessly, came back to rest in our room for the mid-afternoon rain

We found a beer festival in front of a church, on a Sunday, no less

and tried the Atlantic Oil dark beer, watched young children

drink, watched the interaction of so many people talking

outside in the open air.

From there we walked across the Ponte Vechio bridge into the working man’s

neighborhood. We noticed locks on the chain link -looked like love letters with heart-felt inscriptions.

There was a sunset to be found, before it got too late and if we continued to climb we’d have the promise of finding it.

And we did.

Through the neighborhood where Sunday sales were held

houseware goods and garage sale items were

displayed on the neighbors sheets in the street.

We climbed the last stairs. The grand cafe had closed.

(Ristorante La Loggia ~ Willie Wandrag Photo)

A man played his guitar like a keyboard

vendors were closing up for the night

Michelangelo’s sculptures and paintings were now

trinkets and prints for sale, made in China, shipped to Italy and sold to the Americans.

Maybe that’s what was being debated in the festivals before the church.

We stood in the dark, taking in the lights and the sky,

the murky river and other couples taking pictures of one another.

Categories
Community

Zenith Restaurant in Pittsburgh

 

The Zenith

Old hat, new hat

evolving city that lives without me

thick gray glass

heavy water drinking

fluffed chair cushion

my grandma would sew.

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Beneath the pressed tin

a concrete building

treasures hold an evening

mocking, pretend, antiquated dining

spoon in a silver kitchen.

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My brother introduced me to this South Side restaurant that serves vegetarian dishes among unforgettable antiques. The table is set from your grandma’s curio cabinet. Expect an experience. We drank from old goblet glasses, ate off of gold rimmed china, and made room for desert. Enjoy the popular brunch served on Sunday, or dinner on a rainy Friday night as you slip in off of the car-packed streets.

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(I found the first photo on Flicker here) (Image above from Zenith)
Categories
Resolutions

Coffee Collage

I made a few collage covers for a local coffee shop, and thought they were pretty enough to share. Enjoy a brew today at a local shop located near you!