Say My Name

{"Carrots!"}

A friend reminded me earlier this week that people like to hear and see their names. It's a sign of caring and authenticity, she said. I can agree with that. It feels so wonderfully personal to hear people say your name. It's an affirmation of your identity. To be perfectly honest, I do not like to be called by my last name, which is something that almost all my friends do. I know it's part of the informal style of my generation, but I am not a dude nor am I am in the military.

I love to be called Emily or "Em" or "Emi," any of the small number of derivations will suffice. Somewhere in college (where I encountered and friended A LOT of Emilys), people started calling me "Bowen," "Bow," "Bowie," "Bowdoggy." One of my college crushes always called me this last one which made my heart sink because it meant he just liked me as a pal. Nicknames are fun but there comes a point where it's too much. And I would bet more than half of people don't actually enjoy their nicknames, but put up with them to appease their family and friends.

All of this digression is meant to say that I love my name and I want people to use it. When you write a note, you should say the name of the person in the greeting so that they know you mean these words for them and only them.

Names originate in the neatest places too: a favorite poet (I was named after Emily Dickinson, my mother's favorite), a grandparent or other relative, a character in the novel, or even the name of the person who delivered you. Using your name pays respect to its history and to the people who gave it to you.

So, friends, I am curious about your names: what's their origin? Is there anything special in their meaning that you feel connects to your personality? I would love to hear about the history of your name!

Image found here.

A Chic Chemise

There are many terms for it: nightgown, nightie, chemise, peignoir, slip. I love the idea of elegant bedclothes and have been recently inspired by various pieces from film, stage theater, and my recent Etsy perusals, which resulted in the purchase of the aqua chiffon nightie below.

{An Aqua Chiffon Nightie from misovintage}

{I've always loved Maria's simple baby doll-style robe during
the balcony scene of West Side Story}

{Loving Maria's nightgown here - and yes, I could not help but include
a picture of the dashing Matt Cavenaugh}

{The romantic ruffles and delicate embroidery of Queen Victoria
(Emily Blunt)'s nightgown - so lovely and has inspired me

to try to sew my own chemise}

{A pretty vintage 30s charmeuse and lace nightgown
from RevolvingStyle's shop}

Images found here here, here, here, and here.

My City

Indeed another New York City post for I have returned once more to what is increasingly becoming my favorite city. The apple of my eye. This visit was for my new job. In between all the new ropes to learn and content to absorb, I found spare bits of time to explore the city even further and on my own. This independence became my true friending of this vast metropolis. The view from my hotel window showed an ethereal gold hand from Madame Tussuad's (see here in a tilt shift-style photo), a strangely comforting object to see amidst the vast linear architecture of Times Square.

{A room with a view of Times Square}

Though I was based in Times Square for the three days, I tried to move beyond the "center of the civilized world." In the late evening, I wandered the streets as a means to understand the city 'scape. I passed by the Palace Theater, currently the home of my beloved West Side Story. While tempted to see an encore of the show (after my thrilling autumnal experience), I was unable to steal away from my work duties to make an 8 o'clock show. In the early evening, I walked up East 42nd street to Grand Central Station where I procured a small cappuccino at a delicious, albeit pricey cafe. I leaned against a wall in the vast main room of the station, pretending I was meeting someone, a dashing young man perhaps, when really I was observing the streams of people whose busy paths intersected eamlessly and sometimes clumsily, as they journeyed to their destinations.

{Snazzy cars zip by the marquis of Broadway}

I strolled down West 44th street for an evening work event at the Harvard Club (very "shay-shay," my term for upper-crusty and possibly pretentious) and after, stole away to the Algonquin Hotel bar where I sat in a corner booth and enjoyed my favorite cocktail, a gin and tonic. Here I sensed the witty, bitting presence of Dorthy Parker and the Algonquin Round Table. I surveyed the scene: a pair of businessman discussing stocks and new hires over oysters and martinis. Two young British men, in slim, dark jeans and matching striped cashmere sweaters nibbled bar nuts and drank thick, dark drafts of stout. Never before had I sat by myself at a bar and this classy, historic venue was just the ticket for this new experience. I felt a kinship with the scene and a sudden comfort in the city.

{Pricey drinks at the Algonquin Hotel}

This interlude energized me to stroll around the area and I soon found myself at Bryant Park where a skating rink and outdoor cafe had been erected. The cafe's translucent white tents and the brilliant white spot lights created an ethereal effect amidst the dark city night. This city breathes such possibility into me. It seems to fit me like that pair of black suede Dansko boots I magically found in a thrift store. Nothing ever fit so well. Boston-bound for now, who knows what may come in the months ahead!

{Bryant Park Skating Rink}

Transitions

Today I learned, or rather remembered, that I am no good AT ALL when it comes to transitions. An oddity when my soul has craved change for so long! Today I began a new job and there could not have been a gloomier day - grey, wet, bone-chillingly cold. I arrived at my new office where people seemed scattered and distracted. I won't have my own desk until the company expands to another part of the floor next month.

During a morning meeting, it started to sink in that I was in this new place, with new people who didn't know me from a stranger on the street. I started to feel so lonely. I could feel tears forming in my eyes. Don't you dare cry in your first meeting on your first day of the job. I held it together but I could feel my heart sinking and my mind racing, wondering if I had made the right choice. Is this place just like the one I just left? What am I doing with my life? Then, all I could think of was, I want my mommy. How pathetic? Good gravy.

It seems that when we do really grown-up things we feel most like children. Today reminded me of when I left to study abroad in England - my big dream - for a year. I remember feeling like a small little kitten who just wanted to be curled up on a rug at home instead of saying a teary goodbye to my family and friends at the airport. SO dramatic. I wish I was better at these transitions. My day improved as I learned more about what my writing duties would be - knowledge that energized me. I still feel this slight sense of unease and upheaval - signs, I think, of my humanity and an exercise in my power of will, things that have lain dormant for quite some time.

Image found via Sabino.

Bright Lights

I feel my heart bending toward the city of New York. Strange - I have always thought of myself as a country girl. I still am, but my visit to the Big Apple this past weekend was transformational, invigorating. I felt a kinship with the city, not only because many of my good friends now live there, but because the city breathes such possibility. You walk around feeling the potential of meeting intriguing, intellectually-stimulating people and experiencing new adventures. I've been feeling like a new city is in order for a long time. I don't know what the future holds for 2010 but the idea of NYC is definitely growing in my mind's desire.

{Dessert at Cafe Lalo, the Upper West Side}

{Drinks at Barcade, Brooklyn}

{Brunch at Phebe's, the Lower East Side}

For Haiti

I offer my entire heart to the people of Haiti in the aftermath of that horrific earthquake. I don't know how things like this can happen. These people have suffered so much. They don't need the wrath of mother nature on their already bloodied and battered heads. Life is a cruel trick when it takes its toll on the people who deserve it the very least. Dooce posted this link to sites where you can donate money and NPR did the same. I'm sure there are countless others. Today I am thinking and praying and wishing for solace to come to all those who call themselves Haitians. The world hears you and will hopefully hold you close and help heal your many wounds during this painful time. Peace be with you.

A New Day

Out with the old (a view of MIT and Cambridge)...

...and in with the new (downtown Boston)!

A glorious day! Not only is the sun beaming down on the frozen Boston 'scape, but I am moving to a new point in my professional career, as it were. A point where I will be writing! Yes, friends, writing will once again be my trade, my big meal ticket. Hooray! Writing has always been so very natural to me (I know many of my blogging friends can relate). A frequent pastime in college, this skill of mine has lapsed over the years. The miracle of this blog and encouragement from my few, but oh-so-treasured readers has remedied this deficit of creativity. A change of this kind reaffirms a life, energizes the spirit. A new epoch for me awaits in the coming weeks. Until the thick of it begins, I will be traveling to NYC for a little Colbert Report viewing, some law school inquiring (a journey to be tucked away for a year or two), and lots of friend-visiting.

May these next winter days be joyful for you all! xo

Like a Bird

"I'm Like A Bird" came on my Pandora this afternoon and it made me feel like a little girl again. In that moment, I was running down a dirt road in Maine, training for my upcoming middle school lacrosse season and listening to this song on my Walkman (the iPod of the 90s). I also remember a birthday sleepover where we sat around my friend's kitchen table and belted out the lyrics. I am like a bird, I only fly away, I don't know where my soul is, I don't know where my home is. How spiritual music can be! Transporting you to another time. A distant place in your history. Sometimes we need a reminder of where we came from.

Image found here.

My Blogging Space

Inspired by others like Meg from The Wild and Wily Ways of a Brunette Bombshell and erin from reading my tea leaves, I snapped a photo of my blogging space - my bedroom desk. I crave to someday have a separate creative space, but for now I am lucky to have this sweet little place right by the window, which lets in a soft light and allows for daydreaming and gazing at the outside world. I put that desk together a few years ago, finding the legs and frame abandoned in my parents' barn and nailing a sturdy wooden board for a top then painting the entire piece in white paint. The ribbon board was made by my ever-crafty mother from one of my old bulletin boards. It contains cards from loved ones and images that most inspire me. As recently reminded by Dani of ...like a rolling stone, everything is a gift and this blogging space is no exception. Where do you blog, my friends?

An Eternal Tree

I walked outside on this brutally cold day to find some nature. My soul craved the wholeness, the freshness of nature. In fact, I sought a stately tree to hug, to tell my secrets, and to lean on. Avatar is Pocahontas and Fern Gully and every movie James Cameron ever made, but it was also a reminder that we should respect our natural environment, learn from it, and realize that we are but momentary visitors in this humbling and gorgeous environment.

Image found here.

The Expanse

{photo taken with the tiltshift iphone app}

I walked across the bridge last night and saw the frozen expanse of the river creep towards the bright lights of the city. The barren 'scape held a quiet one often sees this January time. Despite the stillness, I felt an incredible openness - the vast winter sky and river mirrored the great expectation I felt in my heart about the coming weeks. I am starting something new, inching forward towards greater change. I feel this change echoing through my body as cogs and gears, unused for so long, take motion once more. I feel more life flowing through me than I have felt in a long time. I am excited and also at peace with the current of things.

A Two-Hour Embrace

I can't stop watching Away We Go. A Christmas present, I have watched the DVD three times in the past week. That is A LOT since once I see a movie I usually don't care to watch it for at least a couple of months. But this movie is just so good. Almost too good. The Sam Mendes film offers its viewers a glimpse into a couple in love like no one else. Burt (John Krasinski - swoon) and Verona (Maya Rudolph) are two idyllic creatures floating through a film littered with vibrant and blatantly flawed characters. Through the noise of these bursting, comedic sketches comes the quiet, gentle rhythm of Burt and Verona (with the help of Alexi Murdoch's flawless music) that acts like a two hour embrace. I love the idea of this film - a couple traveling around to all the people they have known to find a place to raise their child. A worthy journey. The end result is a perfect culmination of all they are seeking and so fitting for these 30-somethings who are trying to "figure basic stuff out." The movie feels like an old friend, who reminds me of the possibility of a great love and that everything is going to be okay.

Image found here.

A Birdhouse

All this talk of Little Women has got me wanting a birdhouse mailbox like the one Laurie gives to the March girls as a means of communicating between "adjoining nations." My parents are in pursuit of a new mailbox and I have tried desperately to convince them to get a birdhouse mailbox, a tribute to our family's love Louisa May Alcott's novel. Speaking of Ms. Alcott, I recently saw an American Masters' tribute to the author - the story of her life, which was actually quite sad as she was forced to not only be her family's breadwinner (to compensate for her father's idealistic, fool-hardy whims) but to also write in the genre of children's literature, when her creative soul craved so much more. Do check it out if you can!

Little Women

The best memory I have (to date) happened when I was ten years old. My family had moved from our established New York life to a two hundred year-old farmhouse on a dirt road in the rurals of Maine. Neither of my parents had found jobs yet and our finances were meager.

Despite this fiscal scarcity, my mom surprised me in my fourth grade class on the snowy afternoon of January 6th - Little Christmas. She told my teacher that she had to take me out for the rest of the day for an appointment. Not having a clue what was afoot, I gathered my belongings and followed her out the car, only to find my dad behind the steering wheel. My mom said that I could play hookie from school this afternoon as we were off on a family adventure!

My mom handed me a card designed in her illustrious script. I wished I had saved this special note. It went something like this, "Happy Little Christmas, Dear Little Emily. To celebrate this special time, we will be taking you to see Little Women, then out to dinner as a treat! Here is also this little necklace that for you to wear this evening." Enclosed with the letter was a cameo pendant on a black velvet ribbon. It was to be worn as a choker. It was the prettiest thing in the world.

Movie-going was a rarity during that time of our lives and I recall this sense of awe and anticipation flowing through my body as we walked into the movie theater. The film is, in a word, spectacular. The cast, the set, the music, the entire essence of this movie beautifully captures Louisa May Alcott's words. With every viewing, I find myself filled with the promise that comes from Jo's courage to follow her dream and preserve her family. This movie has become a family tradition - we watch it year after year - always around Christmas.

Something about Little Women is so refined, so classic. So honestly good. It symbolizes the goodness of my childhood. The March family's simple, authentic happiness embodies my own family. Being home for the holidays last week, I felt this goodness more and more. I am a lucky girl.

Source: Entertainment Weekly

Winter Fun

Mae waits for me to throw perfect snowball!

Let me introduce you to Clem (short for Clement), the first snowman I made in years! I need to make them more often! I especially like his arms - they are so welcoming!

I had a beautiful two weeks at home (especially with a magical snowstorm last weekend) and now feel fully refreshed to face some upcoming January adventures!