thatnicolechick.com

shapeshifter

Sun, 11 Jul 2010 06:18:07 -0400

the picture changes
instantly
depending on how i tilt my head
but isn’t that what they say
about perspective?
it is everything, really

(and finally a reason
why it has become so easy to say
~~i’ve forgotten~~
i’m forgetting you)

anditslove: loveyourchaos:(via likeneelyohara)

Sat, 10 Jul 2010 22:34:04 -0400

anditslove:

loveyourchaos:(via likeneelyohara)

Crystalised - The xx One of my favorite finds of 2009. ...

Tue, 23 Mar 2010 16:55:00 -0400

Crystalised - The xx

One of my favorite finds of 2009. Possibly my favorite album of 2009.

Thought I would share the wealth, for the two or three of you who are into the dream pop, ambient, downtempo, trip hop kinda thing.

The xx - xx

Amazing.

almost there

Wed, 17 Mar 2010 04:55:21 -0400

When I was little I had a big thing for airports. I still do, actually. There is just something so exciting about a place that can bring people together, no matter how far apart they really are. There is something magical about that.

My mom said my interest in airports probably started when I was three. My parents took me to an air show to see the Blue Angels fly. The other three-year-olds were terrified of the roars of the planes overhead and were screaming their heads off. My parents, prepared for the worst, had stuffed napkins in my ears. Napkins were the only things they had on hand, but they were afraid the noise would scare me, too. Instead I was smiling, trying to climb into one of the airplanes and take off. “Mommy,” I had said. “I want to fly.”

I like to think I got it from my father, that somehow this interest is just a part of my DNA. Some sort of tangible proof that I am my father’s child. He loved airports, too.

Back in the eighties, when airport security wasn’t so tight, my father would load me into his dark green pickup truck and drive me to the airport. We’d park near the landing strip and lay in the bed of his truck, watching planes come in and take off. We would make up stories about the passengers: where they had come from, what they were thinking, and who they were looking forward to seeing once they landed.

When I was eight, we had planned for another one of those days, watching the planes going in and taking off. The trip had been postponed all week because of rain and at recess there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. I was confident that our airport trip would finally be successful.

I ran out of class as soon as the clock hit three. But my dad wasn’t waiting for me, my mom was. My mother picked me up from second grade that day with dinner in the backseat of her car, chicken fingers and fries from Captain D’s. I knew something was wrong right away. Who eats dinner at three in the afternoon?

My mom was mostly quiet on the ride home. I asked her why my dad hadn’t come to pick me up from school. “I got off work early,” is all she said. When I asked about the airport she just told me I could go tomorrow, and without elaborating, she then asked about my day. It didn’t seem like she even cared, or that she was even listening, though. I kept talking the short ride home, but she didn’t even react when I told her I got an A on my spelling test.

At home, I asked why my mom didn’t get any food for herself, but she said she wasn’t hungry. I sat in the kitchen and was midway through my meal when I heard her crying from the other room. Why was she crying? My mom never cried, she was the strongest person I knew. She didn’t even jump when I would hide behind things and pop out to scare her. Crying did not make sense.

I went to ask her what was wrong and she just shook her head. “Did Uncle Mike die?” I asked her, wondering what it was that had upset her so badly. It had to be something real bad for her to be so upset. She shook her head.

“No, your daddy did.”

I called her a liar and told her I hated her. What had I done to make her pretend my dad was dead?

I ran to my room and locked the door. Then I had a meeting with God. I remember concentrating so hard. I squinted my eyes shut so tight that I began to see white and black dots blinking before my eyes. I told God I’d be good. I would eat all my vegetables, go to bed on time every night, and not sneak dessert before dinner. I would do all of those things and be the perfect daughter, if only he’d bring my father back. And I’d make it easy, he wouldn’t have to bring him to me, just bring him back. I would find him.

My mom went into my room a little later and I wasn’t there. She called the cops.

A police officer found me two hours later in the median on Blanding Boulevard. Apparently I told him I needed to get to the airport.

*circa 2005

From Cosmo, December 2009. This is legit. I have the hard...

Thu, 25 Feb 2010 15:08:25 -0500

From Cosmo, December 2009.

This is legit. I have the hard copy on my desk at work. Next time you think about engaging in any one of these “high-risk habits”, please think to use a substitute listed above. I think these suggestions are something we can all get on board with.

today's lesson

Mon, 01 Feb 2010 02:56:25 -0500

well, as it turns out, something can make me smile today. maybe it’s a sign?

sigh. i’ll live with it, whatever that means.

"we would often be sorry if our wishes came true."

Sun, 31 Jan 2010 18:41:00 -0500

“we would often be sorry if our wishes came true.”

- Aesop

"I wish that many times I had heard that ‘just who you are at this moment, with the way that..."

Fri, 04 Dec 2009 21:45:13 -0500

“I wish that many times I had heard that ‘just who you are at this moment, with the way that you’re feeling, is fine. You don’t have to be anything more than who you are right now.’ I’d like to think it’s also something that’s happened to me through the years, that I’m more able to accept myself as I happen to be, rather than as somebody thought I should be.”

- Mr. Rogers

The original is great, but this version makes me feel something...

Wed, 18 Nov 2009 02:53:00 -0500

The original is great, but this version makes me feel something completely different. If I was to take all of my perfect moments, memories, and feelings and roll them into a song, the outcome might be something like this.

What a hauntingly beautiful cover.

Retro posters for the movie ‘Up’. I really like...

Wed, 11 Nov 2009 17:09:16 -0500

Retro posters for the movie ‘Up’. I really like these posters. I’d love more things to be advertised this way. This is the world I want to live in. But then again, I really love retro-futurism. It must have started with the Carousel of Progress at Disney World. No wonder I really love shopping for candy at Cracker Barrel. Ah…simpler times.

life would be so much easier if i knew exactly which bridges to burn, which bridges to cross, and...

Wed, 11 Nov 2009 03:02:32 -0500

life would be so much easier if i knew exactly which bridges to burn, which bridges to cross, and which bridges had a troll living below them.

i love this picture!

Thu, 22 Oct 2009 18:57:49 -0400

i love this picture!

wake

Wed, 21 Oct 2009 01:34:03 -0400

the box is pale blue
smooth
and inside
a plastic looking man
who i swear i’ve never met

the room is filled with strangers
all who seem to remember
the day i was born
or who tell me
“you’ve got your father’s eyes”

the lights are too bright
and my head is pounding
across the room
my mother is nodding
maybe she understands something i don’t

and that’s all i can see
through the water in my eyes

circa 2003

drawing love

Wed, 21 Oct 2009 01:20:27 -0400

when I was six
I drew love
like it was easy

two stick people
smiling up from their home
on a piece of construction paper

little lines meant
for little arms connected
to show they were holding hands

a crooked red heart
carefully shaded above their heads
because love was always red

when I was four
I drew love
like it really was

just the crooked heart
heavy red marks
bursting out of the lines

12/08/04

the Lepidopterist

Fri, 16 Oct 2009 03:24:28 -0400

he looked around at his collection, priding himself on the pieces collected over the years. one with an understated beauty. another with vibrant colors. a third which was so rare he could hardly believe his luck. all boxes were his own. his life’s work. a deliberate exercise in preservation.

his first had been from new england. he had been fourteen and had absolutely no experience with anything. he was sitting on a rickety porch swing with sweaty palms, waiting on a girl who may or may not have been the girl of his dreams. as he waited he noticed it by the porch light. jerking up and down, no real grace about the movement, but he was fascinated. it was rather plain, a muted grey, and certainly nothing he would have chosen today, now that he was more knowledgeable.

he was short for his age and had a bit of trouble catching it. he had to jump up and down a bit, but after about five minutes he clapped his hands together, trapping the moth inside of them. a wing was injured, but he didn’t care. this was his first, and when something is your first, you don’t really notice things like that.

he put his find in a safe place, on the upper ledge of a window frame, and hoped the summer breeze wouldn’t blow it down. the girl came along shortly after and they were on their way. the next morning he remembered and found the moth. it was still there.

he spent that afternoon carefully pinning the moth into a shadow box he had purchased at a craft store up the road. when the final pin was in place, he admired his work. for not knowing what he was doing, he thought he did pretty well.

now he has countless boxes. each one a protective cocoon for the object inside. each one more carefully preserved and more carefully selected than the last. but that’s to be expected. that’s what you get with experience.

Photo

Wed, 14 Oct 2009 17:41:25 -0400

i’m in love!!

Tue, 06 Oct 2009 19:04:22 -0400

i’m in love!!

i'm not always there when you call, but i'm always on time

Mon, 06 Jul 2009 01:22:52 -0400

me: do you use ichat?

lynda: yes, i use ichat.

me: can you not have yourself on your buddy list?

lynda: i don’t know. i’ve never done that.

me: man, i like to see myself on my buddy list.

lynda: haha, why do you want to see yourself?

me: that way someone is always online.

lynda: well you always have anthony. at night, anyway.

they need a reality show

Sun, 28 Jun 2009 03:19:39 -0400

my parents are nuts. i want them to have their own reality show so the general public can be exposed to their antics.

my mom and i went shopping today. in the garden section she decided it was a good time to start dancing. she was shaking her booty like crazy until a worker came into the aisle and caught her.

later today, after jim reading a 5-minute tutorial on how to play poker:

me: you know how to play?

jim: well, i got the jist of it, but it’s kind of like going to practice law after watching an episode of matlock on mute. i’m not quite there yet.

Tvätt Dag (Laundry Day)

Wed, 03 Jun 2009 02:51:11 -0400

Tvätt Dag (Laundry Day)

He left on Sunday.
Laundry Day.
Somewhere in between my sedated state
and the first traces of morning,
he had collected his things
and gone.

It had been planned for some time.
His departure.
I thought I would be okay,
because he was going home
and I didn’t care
that much.

Still, I laid in bed all day,
enveloped in the dingy white
of my well-worn bedding.

I glanced around the room
hoping to find some remainder
he left behind.
Even the glass of water
he left on the nightstand weeks ago,
the one I kept nagging about,
was gone.

I buried my face in the pillow,
hoping to suffocate myself
in his signature scent,
subtle keynotes of testosterone,
sweat and aftershave,
neglecting my dirty laundry,
and the pillowcases
that were sprinkled with strands
of his long, black hair.

——————————————

well, it seems i’ve got no direction when it comes to blogging. which is just an extension of how i’m feeling in every facet of my life. but i am hopeful this is about to change. stay positive, that’s what i’m going to do. i just haven’t started yet.