i know this has been around for some time now. but it's so beautiful. i cry every time i watch it. humanity is filled with such complexity. such love. such hurt. it makes my heart ache and celebrate... all at the same time.
the library of congress has a flickr... who knew? i didn't. but there are these beautiful shots of the 1940s in color and for a time period most often captured in black n' white, this burst of brightness brings such wonderful renewed excitement and giddiness. (at least on my part) here are my favorites! well... so far. with over 1600 to chose from, i have months of beauty to sift through.
p.s. i. love. film.
ok so farming is not that interesting... but oh the sky! it's yellow and green and blue and so wonderful! matching dresses! can i have one? this might be my favorite...
oh i feel the nostalgia setting in. i think sometimes i was born in the wrong decade. i could forgo my cell phone and internet to spend a day in a time where all we could use was film, where it was more common to walk than to drive, where home cooking was an almost given, and where tv was an option instead of given... and the fashion would be an added perk. life seemed so much slower then. simpler. and with that simplicity comes a beauty i think we have somewhat lost in our busy lives. but, then again, i could be idealizing.
“I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It’s when you know you’re licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what. You rarely win, but sometimes you do.”
and honestly. i am not sure anymore. because if i can't feel at home here, can i really be at home anyplace else?
this summer has been, well, slightly different than i had originally thought. and that is because i generally have incredibly high expectations for whatever and however i do things. it's a problem actually. but whatever. that is a post for another day, i presume.
this summer was also hard. not hard in the way that i am used to. summers used to be constantly going... back and forth, never stopping. but not this tim. i mean, i could sleep basically whenever i wanted. i could read whatever i wanted. watch whatever i wanted. besides that 16 page research paper in the beginning - i was free to do whatever i wanted.
and i did. and it tasted sweet.
at some points.
but "freedom" fails to find satisfaction when you're alone, i feel.
my family is wonderful. simply wonderful and i love them. with all the understanding i can muster for the word 'love' ("what is love? baby don't hurt me, don't..." sorry. whole new post, i predict). yet, coming back home after three years away... things are bound to change. their worlds can't stop for mine. and they didn't. they tried, but i understood. and so many nights, i spent reading. or sewing (a fine new habit i have picked up). alone.
and i felt strangely foreign in my own house. separated from the other inhabitants... i am rethinking my insistence to have my own space. like a guest. and honored guest, mind you. but a guest nonetheless.
so i am left with this: where is home?
there is this song by edward sharpe and the magnetic zeros. i have been listening to it constantly recently. seems to capture my desire for answers.
sorry for the crappy youtube (butts and such) performance. but internet sucks at my house and it was too much of an hassle to store the song... and whatever. i love her short hair though. if i had a longer face, maybe. but i think short hair would make my face look incredibly round and fat.
it was lonely for a day or so until one morning some man, more recently arrived than i, stopped me on the road. "how do you get to West Egg Village?" he asked helplessly. i told him. And as i walked on, i was lonely no longer i was a guide. a pathfinder. an original settler. he had casually conferred me the freedom of the neighborhood.
