in the city. the New.York.City.
awesome street art with awesome commentary.
in the city. the New.York.City.
awesome street art with awesome commentary.
I hate artificial scents. They irritate my senses and make me sneeze. They are literally poisoning the air you are breathing. WTF?? Why do that to yourself? I also am not a fan of the smell of marijuana. It’s not one of those scents that makes me go, oooh let me smell some more. On top of that I don’t want to offend my neighbors with the smell of pot smoke. The solution is incense.
I know some people have a prejudice against incense because they associate it with hippies. Get the fuck over it. Incense is the best way to scent your home. It has the most pleasant, lingering scent. Most candles you can’t even smell when they are burning. And incense was around way before hippies.
My favorite is the Magnifiscents line by Shoyeido. It’s all natural without any synthetics. It can be found at Whole Foods stores or if you are in Chicago you should check out Eclecticity. It’s a small local store in Lincoln Square filled with unique items and a friendly store cat. At $3.50 these are a steal! Each stick burns for about 30 minutes and the scent lingers for hours.
Each pack of incense comes with it’s own incense burner so you don’t even have to worry about buying one. So if you thought you had to buy the incense AND the incense burner and that’s what was holding you back from making the switch it’s all taken care of. No more excuses for using those awful artificial sprays with names like summer breeze and escape to the rainforest. Do you really think that what comes out of those cans conveys those scents?! Maybe the scents get you high from the chemicals in them and that’s why you really like them.
Whenever there is a change in seasons it’s always a good idea to do some major cleaning. A much needed cleanse. A rejuvenation. That includes my bowl which is what I use to smoke out of. I don’t have the skills necessary to roll a joint or make a bong. Those are fun, but unnecessary complications that would inhibit my smoking. If you recall my love poem to weed then you should have gleaned that I use marijuana on the daily. For the most part. The exceptions are if I’m traveling or there was some bad planning on my part and I’ve smoked it all and my hook up is m.i.a.. Oh, that is when you will find me close to having a meltdown.
I had done some necessary light cleaning/maintenance for my bowl because it was clogging. I was disgusted by the build up of resin I cleaned out. This is when I determined it was time to for a thorough cleaning. So how does one deep clean a bowl like this? Well, I turn to my trusty rice cooker to handle the dirty work.
All I have to do to clean the bowl is add a little salt and a little rubbing alcohol to the water. Set it on cook and let it “cook” for 30 minutes to an hour.
As you can see, all the resin that came out of the bowl started sticking to the sides of the cooker and turned the water that lovely amber color. Definitely should have cleaned this thing out sooner. Word of caution: a lovely stank aroma of funky marijuana is emanated during the cleaning process.
Are you surprised to find out it’s blue and green and not black?!
The actual bowl part reminds me of grassy fields.
The pipe part reminds me of calming, tranquil blue waters.
Taking a moment to relax and reflect on the beauty of the bowl. Then it’s smoking time.
Adventure was missing from my life. I’ve never been west of Illinois; that just sounds too sad and depressing. I may have never ventured west of Illinois, but I have traveled to Europe.
So my desire for adventure led me to California. Partly because it’s sunny and beachy, partly because Vera lives there and I hadn’t spent any quality time with her. Unfortunately the trip started off miserably. I was catching an evening flight from O’hare and it was delayed by 2 hours which might not seem like much, but I would now be arriving in San Francisco around 1 in the morning which is 3 in the morning Chicago time. Fortunately that is my only complaint.
California definitely charmed me. I am even dreaming of moving there. It’s warm, sunny, and laid back; all the things I desire. However, I need a plan first and Chicago is about to enter into it’s best season of the year so I can wait. If ever I have a wistful longing for California I can always look at these pics. Or visit Vera.
i’m a pretty busy person. i go to school full time. i work at a restaurant. i’m a part-time research assistant. blogger. lover. etc.
i also really love taking a few moments for myself when i can allow it. after getting past the guilt, first, of course.
after lots of meltdowns with my sister, arguments with my partner, and whining sessions with my bff, i realized that it is really important to take a few moments to yourself.
here are some things i like to do:
-look at pictures of succulents. i find it calming.
-watch pug videos.
are there any things you do when you have a free moment?
most of my relationships, both romantic and platonic, have revolved around the ability of people to engage in discussions about politics, literature, movies–culture in general– really life critically. of course, this would be impossible without books. actually, this blog would not exist if it wasn’t for books and reading. we all met while doing our BAs in Chicago. it was during this time that the phrase “the personal is political” (from the Carol Hanisch essay) became a guiding principle in our lives. we took it very seriously and constantly applied to our lives what we read. this blog is a testament to that. because feminism/philosophy means nothing unless you do it. that’s my stance.
thanks to another, wonderfully nerdy, friend i got this video via Jezebel which reminded me of the importance of books in my life, my relationships and in general to women (and men, of course) and how hot it is to read.in fact, these women are advocating to base dating decisions on the persons reading habits. brilliant!
Poetry is Not a Luxury
The quality of light by which we scrutinize our lives has direct bearing upon the product which we live, and upon the changes which we hope to bring about through those lives. It is within this light that we form those ideas by which we pursue our magic and make it realized. This is poetry as illumination, for it is through poetry that we give name to those ideas which are, until the poem, nameless and formless-about to be birthed, but already felt. That distillation of experience from which true poetry springs births thought as dream births concept, as feeling births idea, as knowledge births (precedes) understanding.
As we learn to bear the intimacy of scrutiny, and to flourish within it, as we learn to use the products of that scrutiny for power within our living, those fears which rule our lives and form our silences begin to lose their control over us.
For each of us as women, there is a dark place within where hidden and growing our true spirit rises, “Beautiful and tough as chestnut/stanchions against our nightmare of weakness” and of impotence.
These places of possibility within ourselves are dark because they are ancient and hidden; they have survived and grown strong through darkness. Within these deep places, each one of us holds an incredible reserve of creativity and power, of unexamined and unrecorded emotion and feeling. The woman’s place of power within each of us is neither white nor surface; it is dark, it is ancient, and it is deep.
When we view living, in the european mode, only as a problem to be solved, we then rely solely upon our ideas to make us free, for these were what the white fathers told us were precious.
But as we become more in touch with our own ancient, black, non-european view of living as a situation to be experienced and interacted with, we learn more and more to cherish our feelings, and to respect those hidden sources of our power from where true knowledge and therefore lasting action comes.
At this point in time, I believe that women carry within ourselves the possibility for fusion of these two approaches as keystone for survival, and we come closest to this combination in our poetry. I speak here of poetry as the revelation or distillation of experience, not the sterile word play that, too often, the white fathers distorted the word poetry to mean – in order to cover their desperate wish for imagination without insight.
For women, then, poetry is not a luxury. It is a vital necessity of our existence. It forms the quality of the light within which we predicate our hopes and dreams toward survival and change, first made into language, then into idea, then into more tangible action.
(my bold and Italics)
to go along with the “what’s in your bag?” posts we’ve decided to keep going and take it one step further.
this is my desk in my craft room/office. a few things about it:
-my desk is actually a vintage kitchen table; it was the table we used when i was kid.
-i keep all of my crafting supplies under the table in little containers.
-i like to keep important supplies up top: school papers/books, stationary, scissors/writing tools, post its, and general cute things to look at.
-i also have a really bad habit of eating in front of/near my computer. but those stuffed shells were so good. and much more enjoyable while watching buffy the vampire slayer.
-i love this print; i bought it at a girl’s rock fundraiser.
-the bf and i just went to seattle for a quick weekend trip; our first stop was at top pot doughnuts. AMAZING.
-i like to keep little reminders of family & friends on my desk. my grandmother made that hot pink ornament and behind it, sits a little jar filled with rocks from chicago.
-i admit, i’m kind of obsessed with organization. i bought these cheap (really cute), magazine holders from target to organize my work for classes.
-i use my computer like crazy; it pretty much goes everywhere with me.
-i’ve have had these small wooden frames for about 1.5 years. i have no idea what to do with them. any ideas?
so. that’s my workspace! do you all have any important items on your desk?
February is African-American History Month and we haven’t even touched on the subject. In fact, I haven’t seen much about in anywhere except in a store window for school teachers. I very much admire Muhammad Ali because he is a person that stands up for what he believes in. He believes that everyone should be treated equally and with humanity. I was impressed by his refusal to be drafted for the Vietnam War. He refused because he believes in peace and is a conscientious objector. He basically told the draft and the U.S. military to shove it by saying “No, I am not going 10,000 miles to help murder kill and burn other people to simply help continue the domination of white slavemasters over dark people the world over. This is the day and age when such evil injustice must come to an end.“