http://thesartorialist.blogspot.com/2008/07/on-street-cortina-paris.html

for day


for night

I was knocking on your ears
Don't worry, you were always out

Modest Mouse Missed The Boat

I don't know what I feel about new beginnings. I suppose I'm a little frightened of being free. Maybe even a little sad. There are a lot of insecurities that may never leave me, but thankfully I am continually being surprised by the incredible people who remain by me.

You only want me to need you when I don't.

But with everything I complete, I still say,
"It's all for you."

Yesterday consisted of a lot of riding on the back of a scooter (hell yes! I'm addicted) and ended with impromptu dancing really hard at a tiny show and getting up on stage for the last song in a mass of audience members. Talk about a big happy feeling.

I biked a lot today and went back to the gay cafe for the first time since I've been back, and coincidentally, the first time in almost a year. I didn't get charged for soy milk and it made my day.

I'm digging this summer. I missed my friends. They're some of the best family ever.

Am so sick. Yesterday it felt like someone took a bat to my face. Damn my sinuses to hell! It is SO hard to sleep when your nose is runny and your throat is so sore it hurts to swallow.

Life looks like:


















I have so much to do, but I am so tired.

still tangled hair all of the time and i can never really catch up on sleep or spend money slowly enough to save any. i feel like i'm completely brimming over with bliss these days, so much so that i can't write a thing-- but that's more than alright for now.

The only picture I have from Expo so far - a new addition to the Kaki family (borrowing Mark's surname):


For the next two days, communication will be limited. But but but - Natalia, June, and Zee are ADORABLEEEEEE. <3

http://postsecret.blogspot.com/2008/07/sunday-secrets.html

PostSecret is an ongoing community art project where people
mail in their secrets anonymously on one side of a postcard.












-----Email Message-----
Sent: Sunday, July 06, 2008 12:07 AM

It's interesting - though you tagged this photograph as "I'm ready to love everything" and to me it looks like "I'm ready to lose everything," I wonder if in fact these vastly different phrases would still translate to the same meaning...




-----Email Message-----
Sent: Sunday, July 06, 2008 9:52 AM

I just showed this to my husband and he said "Thank God." It took us 6 months and we felt like failures.






-----Email Message-----
Sent: Sunday, July 06, 2008 7:51 PM
Subject: stat counter

I look forward to reading people's secrets every week and it makes me feel less lonely. Especially when I get to the bottom of the page and refresh and re-read stat counter to find that over 2400 people spent the last 4 minutes with ME!

...(152,903,926 - 152,906,332)




















-----Email Message-----
Sent: Sunday, July 06, 2008 9:15 AM

When I walk by a black person I'm afraid they will think I am racist if I do OR if I don't look at them.



-----Email Message-----
Sent: Sunday, July 06, 2008 12:36 PM

for the record, we minorities don't notice whether you look at us on the street or not. we're thinking about politics, the weather, and what to make for dinner - just like you.





-----Email Message-----
Sent: Sunday, July 06, 2008 3:09 AM

Hi Frank,

At 26, my first wrinkles have just started appearing on my forehead. At first I was upset, but then I realized it was due to the expression I make when I am interested or curious.

Now, I hope they only get deeper, because I would hate to loose that sense of wonder. Thanks for posting it so that I could remember how important it is to love something more than my appearance.



-----Email Message-----
Sent: Sunday, July 06, 2008 4:35 AM

Being an EMT made me question my faith in god, but my coworkers gave me faith in humanity.





-----Email Message-----
To: Frank Warren

I was reading PostSecret today and I happened to scroll down to the end of the page, and saw a photo of Kristin - a childhood friend that lived around the block from me in Florida. I did hear when she died, but I was very surprised to see the suicide hotline with Kristin's picture on it.

After researching how the Kristin Brooks Hope Center was founded I had to pass along to Kristin's husband, Reese, that the love he has for her is overwhelming. His devotion to her memory is remarkable, and I just wanted him to know that a friend who knew Kristin a long time ago was proud that she married someone like him. Their child is blessed to have parents like Kristin and Reese.

Thank you for all you do to help people in dark places find their light.





-----Email Message-----
From: Reese Butler [Founder, Kristin Brooks Hope Center]

The ability and opportunity to connect with one of Kristin's childhood friends was a miracle and a gift from the PostSecret community.

After Kristin's death I desperately tried to reach out to all the people she grew up with. It was important to me that people who did know her learned what happened to her and how they can prevent others from falling to the same fate.

For over 3 years the PostSecret community has helped people learn that they share some of the deepest and darkest secrets and are not alone

Thanks for this miracle.



-----Email Message-----
From: Frank Warren
Subject: Struggling to meet a July 9th deadline

The Kristin Brooks Hope Center needs your help today.

Become a member of the 99 CLUB. Call Reese directly to arrange for a larger donation 202-669-8500 (yes, that is Reese's direct phone number, please be respectful). You can also make a quick and easy PayPal donation.

All donations are fully tax deductible and 100% of your donation will go directly to HopeLine.





-----Email Message-----
From: Reese Butler
Sent: Monday, July 07, 2008 7:44 AM
Subject: Fundraiser Update: Dramatic Increase in Club 99

There are now 81 members who have signed up for the 99 CLUB!

That is a combined pledge to raise $405,000 in the next year.

We need one final push this week to get over the immediate threat . We have a plan and the Postecret Community is fulfilling that plan. It is amazing and a miracle all at the same time.

Best always,

Reese Butler
President and Founder
Kristin Brooks Hope Center
National Hopeline Network 1-800-SUICIDE 784-2433
202-536-3200
202-536-3206 fax
1250 24th Street NW
Suite 300
Washington, D.C. 20037
www.hopeline.com
reese@hopeline.com

i am standing on the brink of enormous changes, and it feels absolutely amazing. i am ready to be ready, and that is a thrilling realization.

Underneath this city, there is another city, one more modern, more
recent in its origin. Here, in these dark tunnels where pomegranates
fall, all these thoughts fly around like moths, lured by light, by sweet
smell of decay, trapping themselves by their own free choice in the
confined space of their making: It can’t already be June, it can’t
already be Monday, that’s what they say, that’s what people keep
muttering to themselves this morning as they cradle the last of the
sleep in their coffee cups, for the precious moments in which they
huddle in themselves before they must sign off their lives to something
they don’t believe in, to something they think they cannot escape
from. As they rock in the rhythm of the train, someone thinks, A moth
in spider’s nest, though she does not see the intricate weaving of the
thin threads, ready to untangle between our fingers, snapping the
threads. But it’s like this: It’s already June, I’m already 28 and I
haven’t done anything, many are talking, comforting us in these
minutes of our lives when we descend down to darkness, to darkness
so dark that we are helpless, our bodies swaying left to right, left to
right as if we’re rocking in prayer, but we are not praying. We’re boxed
in the freight, we’re boxed in a subway car, this is the death train, but
unlike them, forced away from their homes because of blood, we
chose this train, we chose to be on it, we are boxed in, we’re as
helpless, we tell ourselves, positioning ourselves to the gravity, the
pull of the train. Our highest dreams thrown out like our last night’s
dinner, a woman’s dream flies past, landing silently on the subway
floor like the last note of an aria, I wish someone loved me, I wish He
loved me, a thought so light it floats quietly down, hovers an inch
or two above the floor, then lands, landing as someone steps on it. I wish
somebody loved me, but I’m not pretty enough, I’m not smart enough,
she closes her thoughts from us, she looks down to the book on her
lap, the thick one, heavy like her sadness, but she doesn’t stop her
reading, the thick book stays where it is, the woman, though, reads so
little, doesn’t really read, just daydreams, her hopes going where
we are going, she stays where she is, on the seat across. We are all
going somewhere we have to each day, pulled by the invisible strings,
and we say, I can go no other place, this is where I belong. No, we go
to places only if we must, but must is a habit, after all, we can go
anywhere as long as we let ourselves, anywhere we want to, only if we
want to, she can stretch her arms as if in flight, and leave, leave this
train, this city…only if she wants to. We think there’s no way out, our
lives guided by some invisible lines only fate has right to hold, right to
control. But we are closer to grace, we are closer to where we were
before we were born, before we forgot the songs, before we forgot the
promises, we are closer to grace in the darkness of our own making,
we are not of time—only if we let it, only if we let the watch unshackle
us, but we forget, as we have forgotten, as soon as we open our eyes.
Many are called and many do not hear.

Dear Igby,

I am sorely disappointed in you. I don't mind the crackling speakers, the dents, the constant shake. Hell, I can even deal with the fact that it takes you FOREVER to accelerate to highway speeds. I'm sorry that I couldn't take you on my G test, but I feared that your performance might not be up to government standards. If this hurt your feelings, I understand, but breaking down on me is NOT the way to show your anger. Do you know much it cost me to fix you? $400. Yes. $400. We are NOT okay, Igby. NOT OKAY.

No love,
Nikki



Today was so odd. Besides paying $400 to get my car fixed, I also rode on a motorcycle, had lunch with strangers, and bought over $100 worth of products at a 'fantasy' party that my mother invited me to. Woah.

But I feel okay about it all because now I really and truly do taste like candy. Well, honey, to be exact.

Last day of the first half of summer school today and it was hottt outside.

I'm pretty fucking proud of these two photographs from my final project.

My mom gave me a list. This is what it said:

Nicole:

- is very attractive (beautiful)
- is ambitious
- has amazing talent
- seeks knowledge + truth
- loves people
- works hard
- wants to be helpful
- is deeply loved
- can overcome anything
- makes very wise choices

I love my mom.