Midnight

"Night is purer than day; it is better for thinking, loving and dreaming. At night everything is more intense, more true. The echo of words that have been spoken during the day takes on a new and deeper meaning."

--Elie Wiesel, Dawn

New Year, New You: 12 Things Successful People Do Differently

1. They create and pursue S.M.A.R.T goals

2. They take decisive and immediate action

3. They focus on being productive, not busy

4. They make logical, informed decisions

5. They avoid the trap of trying to make things perfect. 

6. They work outside of their comfort zone

7. They keep things simple

8. They focus on making small, continuous improvements

9. They measure and track their progress. 

10. They maintain a positve outlook as they learn from mistakes.

11. They spend time with the right people

12. They maintain balance in their life.

[Source]   

An Excerpt: Tangible

It's probably crazy, she thought, to long for moments lost in time; secret glances from across the room, resonating warmth from the slight touch of hand. She could still see his eyes; dark and revealing, intoxicating in nature. Through tangled sheets, she turns trying to figure it all out. Was it ever real or was it fabrication? 

She feel as though a part of her is missing; the air in her lungs cast upon the clouds. So often, she finds herself reaching for him in her dreams, cultivating treasured illusions that make her feel alive. Crazy, she presumes. Crazy to think that what he felt for her was tangible...

Prelude To A Dream

Clever Trick

She is sitting in a smoky bar, wearing nothing but a simple black dress and a string of pearls. Her poison of choice appears to be whiskey; light in color, yet rich in amber tones. Methodically, she wipes the condensation that seeps from the translucent material as if she has been waiting. She appears distraught, almost distracted, as she repeatedly glances at the door through anxious eyes.

In the distance, a faint cry of an old Eagles song weeps from the jukebox. Couples are heard laughing over $1 Budweiser long necks. The bartender oblivious to her apprehension initiates conversation. She meets his gaze, smiling as if she is interested in what he has to say. A clever trick, as so it would appear to the stranger studying her through thick clouds of stale cigarette smoke. Quietly, she declines his warm advances and moves elegantly towards the restroom. 

As she moves towards the back of the building, she takes note of the art adorning the wall. A young Dean stares back at her with a cigarette hanging seductively from his bottom lip. For a moment she stares, contemplating the young man before her. Slowly, she pushes the heavy metal door into the bathroom. The decor, like most public restrooms is horrendous, yet she can't help but trace the outlines of old phone numbers carved into the stalls with her fingertips. 

When she arrives back to the bar, she notices that the bartender has refilled her drink. She nods politely, thanking him as she pulls a few loose bills from her wallet. Again, she glances at the door. 

In her peripheral she watches as the bartender gazes intently. He appears to be in his early thirties, perhaps younger. "You are a mystery to me." Startled, she inquires, "Excuse me?" "A mystery. Did you not hear me the first time? He laughs revealing a dangerous smile. "I did, but I wanted to ignore you", she scoffs, clearly masking her sudden interest in the man before her. He laughs at her once more, "Sweetheart, we both know that you don't want to be ignored. Otherwise you wouldn't have worn that dress." 

Slightly wounded, she takes a long pull from her glass. She watches him, as he stands motionless eager for a rebuttal. Instead of appeasing him, she moves her eyes once more to the door. At that moment, he appears...

Double-Edge Comfort

"My thoughts tend to sound better in books I didn't write, and in the songs I didn't sing. Even then, sometimes there is no piece of literature, no song, no work of art that can really explain the way you feel. There is a double-edge comfort in knowing that no one really knows." 

Maybe You Should Start Listening

As I sat behind my desk today, I couldn't help but feel as though there was something missing; a greater part of me fading away. I was exhausted, despite the influx of caffeine I subjected my body to. Bewilderment and confusion flooded my mind as I tried to figure out why I stopped fueling my passion. Was I really responsible for letting the flame fade? When did I stop pursuing my dreams? When did I let it all slip through my fingers? Sure, I can make excuses, point fingers, and blame the innocent for my brief hiatus but I would be in denial.  There's no denying I lost my faith in my ability; I settled for less than mediocre.

Thankfully I snapped back to reality when I came across an article I didn't think I needed to read.

"Your Life Is Speaking, Are You Listening." Hmph. No, I don't think my life is speaking to me today, I refuted in my sarcastic inner monologue. But, just like a bad car accident, I couldn't look away. "Where is your head these days? Are you daydreaming about what should have been, could have been; or are you still looking for what is supposed to be the life path of your dreams? Has your life come to a mundane daily routine?" Damn. This guy is good. So good, that I secretly feared he would ask "Do you have a glass of wine every night with a bowl full of Cheetos? At that point, I would have immediately closed the browser convinced that the US government, was in fact, watching our every move.  But dude had a point, so I kept reading.

I soon discovered that my life was speaking to me, yet I had been ignoring its persistent nagging. I decided it was time to do something, so I made a list. I made a list of all the things I long to accomplish; a list of my dreams; a list of stories I long to tell. A list that borders the impossible, yet I don't seem to mind.

I feel refreshed; rejuvenated.and can't wait to start crossing off the to-dos. 

Happy Hour Readers: What is on your list?

I Am Imperfect...

With such an emphasis on "perfection" in society, I decided to write 15 reasons why I am completely imperfect. I encourage you to do the same because when you really look at the list, your pretty damn awesome and you have a lot to be thankful for. 

1. I hate doing my hair, my makeup, and working out but do it anyways...

2. I prefer the taste of cheap wine & cheap champagne.

3. I clean once a week and don't really care...

4. I often cry for no reason...

5. I don't wax my eyebrows or get them plucked at a salon...

6. My nails? Could use a manicure...

7. Sometimes, I wear a pair of jeans more than twice without washing...

8. I believe peanut butter should be eaten by the spoonful.

9. I walk into walls yet can run in 5 inch stilettos.

10. I do not understand politics...nor do I care (at times...)

11. I blog incessantly...

12. I tend to whine when I am really hungry or overly tired...

13. I am sometimes really bad at parking or making 8-point turns

14. I am a Pinterest addict (no really, I "Pin" every chance I can)

15. I truly believe that cold pizza doesn't have as many calories as hot pizza does. 

& calories don't count if they are not in your plate. 

Happy Hour Readers: What Makes you "imperfect"

-Kristina

Every Woman Should...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ....

enough money within her control to move out

and rent a place of her own even if she never wants

to or needs to...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ....

something perfect to wear if the employer or date of her

dreams wants to see her in an hour...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ...

a youth she's content to leave behind....

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ....

a past juicy enough that she's looking forward to

retelling it in her old age....

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE .....

a set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, and a black

lace bra...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ....

one friend who always makes her laugh... and one who

lets her cry...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ....

a good piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone

else in her family...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ....

eight matching plates, wine glasses with stems, and a

recipe for a meal that will make her guests feel honored...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ....

a feeling of control over her destiny...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...

how to fall in love without losing herself..

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...

HOW TO QUIT A JOB,

BREAK UP WITH A LOVER,

AND CONFRONT A FRIEND WITHOUT RUINING THE FRIENDSHIP...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...

when to try harder... and WHEN TO WALK AWAY...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...

that she can't change the length of her calves,

the width of her hips, or the nature of her parents..

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...

that her childhood may not have been perfect...but it's over...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...

what she would and wouldn't do for love or more...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...

how to live alone... even if she doesn't like it...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...

whom she can trust,

whom she can't,

and why she shouldn't

take it personally...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...

where to go...

be it to her best friend's kitchen table...

or a charming inn in the woods...

when her soul needs soothing...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...

what she can and can't accomplish in a day...

a month...and a year...” 

Pamela Redmond Satran

Nothing Is Original

Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. 

Select only things that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. 

Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent. And don't bother concealing your thievery-celebrate it if you feel like it. In any case always remember what Jean Luc-Godard said:

"It's not where you take things from-it's where you take them too."

-Jim Jarmusch

Disperse

His whispers; silent. His voice; melodic as the unknown rumbles curiously throughout his humble chest. His heart unwillingly reveals the predominant echo of life. How he wonders? How does she manage to surpass these incomprehensible, imaginary fantasies he refuses to disperse...

His pain digs upon salted wounds; a bottle of whiskey...an apology long forgotten.

Sadly, he fails to open tear laden eyes as she waits; her reflection lingering on a rearview mirror.

{Saturday 1:58 am} 

{photoretrieved from pinterest}

Indifference

Her eyes were cobalt blue; the color of corrosion from the sea. Pristine, clear; a crystal ball of the untold. For a moment, her life passed before those very eyes. She questioned 'why' as she stood upon the ledge, her crimson hair touched by the simple kiss of the salty sea breeze. Years left unanswered; embodied by mystery. They would wonder she thought, as her toes challenged her very last breath. The air however, gave her faith. How, she asked as she peered at the moon; the same moon that had followed her as a child. Dreams, she envisioned, did indeed come true. Step by step her tireless soul grazed the stone. A chance, although secondary, gave her hope. Figuratively, the mask she braved to show the world, crumbled to the touch. A brush of the fingertip, a multitude of inadequacy seemingly that of the past. He had saved her when she had begged for indifference.

{pinterest}