"the sky was the color of breakfast"

I live in a place of two worlds.

There is the material world that we all live in and see and feel, and then there is another place. It's less tangible to me at this point but it is just as real. I feel it in the air on the uppermost layer of my skin. It pushes on my consciousness at odd times, when my thoughts are firmly here and now but are beguiled away by another force. It is a world of images and colors, hopes, dreams, stories and genius. Trying to describe it feels like the taste of a word that your tongue tries to form but can quite reach or remember.

Every day I build it, break it, change it. Some people can't see this world. They're not bad people but I ache for them. For what they unwittingly miss out on. For how blind they are to the ephemeral reality around them.

I will create a place for them. And give them what their eyes cannot see.

Picking up a paint brush, something magical happens. Not on the canvas. The change occurs inside of me as I hold one implement of creation. Right now it is just a sketched a scene in water across the canvas but I saw so much more.

pot ledom is top model backwards

Sunglasses: Target, Sweater: JCrew (ebay), Skirt: Thrifted, Sandals: B.O.C. (DSW)

Guess who's been watching too much America's Next Top Model? "Wanna be on top?" My days lately have consisted of listening to jackhammers while I type away and sit in companionable noisy silence with my sister. We are something of kindred spirits even though twelve years separate us. We've  also been painting, baking, photographing and shopping, but mostly writing. It's interesting to hear her, so young, coming up with plot twists and fleshing out her characters. I like who she is now, but I'm also excited to see in what ways she'll change and deepen over the years.

the wise month

When I was reminded yesterday that today would be the first of August I was quite happy for some reason. I don't usually get excited with the changing of months since seasons tend to bleed into each other without regard for the date. But August feels special. It's filled with end of summer anticipation and anxiety. August is usually the warmest of the summer months and the only time I will willingly, gladly get into a pool or lake or any other form of water that can be found. I am going to embrace this peak and make it a highlight of my summer with more adventures--written, photographed and lived adventures--and some preparation for the months ahead. I have two large goals that I'll share with you and hope you will help me with.

1. I am going to do a photo challenge. I've started one multiple times and always failed by giving up completely, but this time will be different. The picture above is outside as I experienced it today--from indoors.

2. I am looking for a pen pal. I have a stack of postcards and extra stamps and I want to send one to you. I would love to pair people up as well with others who are interested. I've had two pen pals in my life and both turned out to be rather dud-ly. I never received a single piece of mail back. So only email me if you are really interested, but also don't feel like you have to write more than once if you don't want to. I just think it would be fun to send and receive mail from some lovely stranger and even better if we can turn them into a real friend.

The Beach ( part III )

If you want to, you can catch up on or reread parts one and two of The Beach before you tune in here for the final installment. If not, read on.

"STALKER!" I was three seconds away from running out from under the cover of the pier and flagging down the Beach police. But something stopped me; and it wasn't my dread of facing my parents behind bars. Why? Why was this cute--outside of the shadows I could see the definition of his sharp features and his flashing, grey eyes-- somewhat funny, older guy waiting at the Beach to talk to me?

"What do you want with me?" I was far enough away that I would have a good headstart and while screaming my head off I was sure that I could attract the Beach police.

He was much closer by this time. "I'm here to offer you one wish."

I didnt' say anything. He's joking. He waited for my response. He's not joking. He must be crazy.

"Thank you. That's very kind of you," I said and then turned and ran down the Beach towards the police. I was hoping to throw him off gaurd, but he pounced at me before I had run a dozen steps. It would have been a gentle tackle by most standards if I hadn't ended up stretched facedown with a mouth full of sand.

"Get off of me! HELP! Get. Off. Me." I wasn't scared anymore. I was seriously annoyed. I bucked him off and flipped onto my back glaring.

"Sorry Nilly, but you shouldn't go running around like that. People are going to think you're crazy."

My jaw dropped. Either he was a hardcore stalker or this Nate-guy knew me, because no one had called me Nilly in about 7 years.

He could read the shock clear on my face and Nate grinned, "It's me. Natty."

Natty was my only friend growing up. We would play almost every afternoon together until I turned six, when my mom remarried and we moved away. Mom would ask me questions about Natty, like where were his parents, what did they do for work or where did he live or was he in the room with us at that moment. 

Natty was my imaginary friend. Or at least that's what my mom had thought. Over the years he had faded enough that I thought she might be right.

I looked closely at the guy sitting across from me. I ran my tongue over my gritty teeth as I tried to process. Impossible. "Natty?" I spat sand. "How do I know that you're him. Besides, you're not real. I mean he's not real."

Still with that same strangely familiar grin on his face, Natty--Nate--reached over and poked my side. "You're favorite animal is a seadragon. You love to read comic books. And you stole a tootsie roll from the corner store on Irving Park."

I squirmed and fought hard not to squeal when he poked me. "You said you wouldn't tell anyone."

"It's not secret-breaking if you remind the person who told you in the first place, silly Nilly." He hooked his pinkie finger with mine and pressed his thumb to my thumb. Our secret-keeper promise shake.

"Don't call me that. I'm not a little girl anymore." I yanked my hand away from his and jumped up from the ground, brushing sand from my jeans. "Besides, we're not friends like that anymore. You left me." I whispered the last part more to myself. I knew it was illogical, since I was the one who'd moved away.

A firefly flew in between us trailing light like a small fairy.

"I'm here now."

"So what? Is that supposed to make everything all better? Natty, you can't change the way things are, with me or my life." The tide was drawing the further onto the shore. I slid a few steps back.

"That's what the wish is for. You can have anything you want. A happier family. Your independence. That castle we talked about building." He scuffed sand at me. What an annoying boy. 

"I'd need more than just one wish," I said wistfully. "Besides, aren't there limitations to that sort of thing? And what happens afterwards; you disappear again?"

This time he kicked water towards me. Ick. "Here." He reached into his pocket and threw a crumpled paper at me. I picked it up and unscrunched it. 'I hereby grant the carrier of this paper 1 wish,' it read. Natty shifted from one foot to the other. "Use it when you need it. But for now can we do something fun? Before the trash men wake up."

Huh? I looked towards the parking lot. From my angle on the shore I could see the parking lot more clearly. The headlights belonged to a garbage truck not a police car. And the vehicle hadn't moved from its spot the entire time Natty and I had been talking. Odd. The Beach was a magical place. Being with Natty here felt right. More peaceful than I had felt in a long time. Maybe tonight I can play pretend one more time.

Another light flickered nearby. I smiled. "I bet I can catch more lightning bugs then you can." I challenged Natty, already lunging towards the glimmer.

"Ha! You're on."