lately

♥

Hope all of you who celebrate it had a wonderful Independence Day!  And to everyone else, I hope you had a fantastic Wednesday!  

The past few days have been a little rough for me-- Tuesday was the one-year anniversary of my dad passing away.  I thought my mom and I actually made it through pretty well.  We did a lot of gardening (I was wearing jeans and a baseball cap-- super-weird, I don't know how people deal with wearing pants all the time.  Yay for dresses!), and put a new planter of very pretty flowers at the cemetery.  What a bizarre situation.  Even a year later, a little part of me still expects my dad to somehow come back.  Maybe we never really accept that people we love aren't physically with us anymore.  Or maybe I just never made it past the 'denial' phase.

The evening was surprisingly good, though-- my mom and I stayed home, but when we heard the fireworks, we ran out onto the sidewalk to watch and they were spectacular.  (I was already in my pajamas at that point-- this is the kind of thing that explains why I don't post outfit photos.)  My favorites are the gold sparkly ones-- some of them make lots of little circles, like polka dots, and some of them trail into golden weeping willows.  

What are your favorite fireworks?

♥

walking

Last Friday, after my last final exam ever, I went for a celebratory walk on The High Line.  

Today I'm graduating from the Fashion Institute of Technology.  It's a weird feeling.  I'm excited, of course, it's a milestone and graduating from my dream school is surreal.  But knowing that my dad and my grandmother, two people who I never imagined this happening without, won't be there is giving me a knot in my stomach and a lump in my throat.  Late last night I was imagining what graduation would be like, and without even thinking about it, I was picturing my dad's proud, beaming face as he saw me for the first time as a college graduate.  I think that's why graduation feels a little...anti-climactic.  Knowing that no matter how wonderful it is, and how excited I am to move into the next stage of my life, my dad won't be there holding flowers after the ceremony.  It's a reality I wasn't ready to face quite yet.  But all I can do is make the best of it.

So this is the end of the hardest, most stressful, most transformational, and most rewarding four years of my life.

On to the next  adventure.
♥

bittersweet

    

      I wrote a few weeks ago about my frustration with finding a topic for my memoir class, mentioning how I'm generally quite a private person (despite all evidence to the contrary, given that I'm writing this on a public blog, which quite literally exists for other people to read) and how while I love to read memoirs, writing down intimate details of my life to share with others is not so much my thing.  I managed to write one piece that I was reasonably pleased with, and it got a good reaction from my classmates, and I felt like I was getting somewhere with this whole experience-sharing business.  But even with that piece, there were details that I deliberately omitted-- the memory was too close to my heart to share more than a glimpse into it.  When it came time to write the next piece, I was stuck right up until the night before class.

     I decided pretty early on in the semester that I wouldn't be writing about losing my dad and everything that led up to it.  It's still much too soon for me to be able to think about it without crying, never mind sharing it with a class.  But it made me wonder if I was being neglectful or disrespectful to my dad's memory by not writing about it, because it's truly the most intensely painful and impactful thing that I've ever experienced.  It's on my mind constantly, he's on my mind constantly.  But writing about it in detail felt out of the question, and not only would it be really, really difficult for me to write.  My dad's life shouldn't be defined by its ending.  Instead, I started writing about some of my favorite memories of my childhood-- coming home from school and spending time with my family and the special bond that we shared and still share.  Finally, a subject about which I have years and years of experience and emotion.

     Writing memories from my childhood, which was as wonderful a childhood as anyone could ever ask for, was bittersweet.  I'm so relieved to finally be able to remember life before my dad got sick.  The good memories are slowly making their way to the top of my mind instead of being firmly pushed down by the upsetting ones.  After my professor read my memoir fragment on Monday, she said "It's lovely...I was just talking with [another professor at my school] about how if someone were to write a deep, heartfelt memoir about a happy experience, we'd love to read it, but those aren't generally things people write memoirs about.  Keep writing about this-- a happy childhood is rare and the rest of us who didn't have one can live vicariously through reading about it."  Her words really resonated with me.  My blissful childhood was an event that deserves description just as much as any of the devastating memories.

     As much as I'm enjoying recalling happier times, it's also painful.  As I wrote about the simple pleasure of coming home from school and opening into the door to our wonderful, welcoming hobbit-hole of a house and saying hello to my parents, I couldn't suppress one thought from circling in my mind.

How could everything have gone so wrong?

It's a question that I'll never have a satisfactory answer to.  And that is really, really difficult to live with--the idea that tragic things can happen completely arbitrarily.  Right now, though, I'm trying to find comfort in exploring my recollections of a time before I ever asked that question.  I'm trying to honor my dad by remembering his life and how joyful my family's lives were together. 

 I'm trying to remember that before everything went wrong, everything was right.

♥

if you're interested in the memoir fragment that inspired this blog post, feel free to read it here.

♥

Chachi ♥

My sweet kitty Chachi passed away of natural causes at nearly 13 years old.
She was the smartest, cheekiest, and cutest cat I've ever known.  I loved her very, very much.

I hope you find the sunniest napping spot, Magical Princess Bun-Bun.

♥

some things are awesome, other things really test my nerves.

I recently ran across the brilliant tumblr Incorrect Sylvia Plath Quotes.  Basically, quotes from various pop culture references are incorrectly attributed to Sylvia Plath.  Simple, but genius.

On a completely unrelated note, I'm not sure when sensitivity to the feelings of others became a liability, but I would guess it was around the time that reality television became a thing and suddenly people could pretend that they were the star of their own program.  It really, really bothers me when I hear someone bragging about how rude they were or how little they cared about someone else's feelings.  Individuality and courage of conviction are to be commended, but so is decency.

Speaking of things that bother me, there are a few things making their way around the interwebz that just tick me right off.  Here's one of them.

I'm sorry, stupid cancer?  Stupid.  Cancer.  As someone who has lost both my father and my grandmother to cancer within the last 7 months, the idea of sending something around that starts with stupid cancer is horribly trivializing about a disease that had a huge and tremendously painful impact on my life.  Stupid snow?  Sure.  Stupid traffic?  Mmhm.  Stupid cancer?  Nuh-uh.  Not okay.  It's not often that something manages to be both trivializing and sanctimonious, but this little charmer does.  '97% of my friends won't re-post this, but 3% will.  Let's see who does.'  How dare someone imply that if I don't re-post this, it means I either don't care about or wasn't deeply effected by cancer.  If I'm going to do something in honor of the people I've lost to cancer, it's damn well going to be something more meaningful and impactful than a purposely guilt-inducing Facebook post.  (This isn't meant to offend anyone who has posted this, anyone who wants to post this, anyone who created this, yadda yadda yadda.  It's not meant to offend anyone, but it's opinion of one girl who finds it highly offensive.)

ugh.  now I have to look at some cat photos to get my blood pressure back to normal.

there.  that's better.

Now I'm going to get back to my homework.  Thanks for making it to the end of this ramble-y, ticked-off post.

♥

dad's birthday.

Today is my dad's birthday.  He would have been turning 57.

One of my favorite memories of my dad actually happened over the phone.  I was walking down 8th Avenue, talking to my dad on my phone, and it was right around this time of year, because we were talking about his birthday.  He said, "I went this whole year thinking I was going to be turning 56, but when I said that to your mom, she said I was only going to be turning 55!  I did the math, and she was right!  How about that?  I just turned a year younger on my birthday."

I miss my dad so much every single day.  There are days when it's almost impossible to deal with having lost him.  I've been trying to deal with it in part by living in a way that he would be proud of and following the wonderful example that he set.  One of the things that stands out most to me was how openly he expressed how much he loved his family.  Pretty much every time he saw one of us (which was a lot, because my parents worked at home, something for which I'm extremely grateful), we'd get a "Love you, Hon," (to my mom,) "Love you, Bud," (to my brother,) or "Love you, Jules" (to me).  One of the things that has comforted me most since losing him is the knowledge that there was absolutely no doubt about how much we cared for each other.  I'm never going to have to look back and say "I wish I had told him I loved him more often."

This is from my high school graduation party, one of my very favorite memories.

That's what I'm trying to incorporate into my own life-- letting people know that I care about them, and that they're special to me, and never to take anyone for granted because life truly is too short for that.  So if I can make a little request of you, my dear and sweet readers who have given me so much support over the past year, I would request that you help me celebrate my dad's birthday by finding someone who is special to you and telling them how much they mean to you.  Let them know that you're there for them, and that your life is enriched because they are in it.  Tell them you love them while they can hear you.

♥

Nanny

"Adventure is worthwhile in itself."
          -Amelia Earhart

     Every now and again the world sees a true adventurer.  My grandmother was absolutely one of those special few.  Sometimes it took a little while to get going, inspiring Nanny's cry of "Off we go, like a herd of turtles!"  But other times the adventures were speedy-- like when she and her neighbor/ partner-in-crime were burning rubber in a 1974 Thunderbird convertible.  Nanny didn't stress over the small things, her motto in life was "Just roll it!" Her riotous sense of humor and infectious laugh endeared her to all those who knew her.

  

She will be very dearly missed.

♥

new year ♥

Happy New Year!

Ashley, from You're the Charlie Browniest, wrote a really great New Years post of a letter written to the version of herself that existed one year ago.  I thought that was a great way to look back over the year, so I've written my own letter.

Dear Julie of December 31st, 2010,

     You are so happy at this moment-- hold onto that feeling.  Hold onto it tightly.  Because you will need to draw on that reserve of happiness so much for the next year... but you will make it through.

     There's a man next to you right now, and you are absolutely convinced you're going to be spending the rest of your life with him.  You'll actually only be together for a few more weeks.  But even though you're heartbroken and furious at first, you don't stay bitter for very long.  You've learned how happy and alive you can be, and how deeply you can love.

     April... in April, you lose another love.  I wish I could tell you that you get over it quickly and painlessly.  But it does get easier, and eventually you're able to remember the quietly joyful moments and smile instead of cry.

     When your dad gets sick, spend as much time with him as you possibly can.  Losing him is the worst thing that you've ever experienced and you won't understand how the world could possibly go on without him.

     That still hasn't gone away.  Hang in there, Julibee Roo.

     The year does have some good points, though.  You do very well in school, and you grow up more this year than in any other period of your life.  You learn that having an amazing best friend is an invaluable gift.  You learn to deal with overwhelming grief by channeling it into your art, even if you can't put it into words.  You learn that, as one friend puts it, "there's a tiger hiding under all those ruffles and bows."  You're a strong girl.  Keep trying to find a balance between that strength and letting yourself be soft and vulnerable.

Be gentle with yourself, busy bee.

Love, Julie of December 31st, 2011

start the new year with a giveaway!  click here to enter to win goodies from my etsy shop.

♥

blue christmas

It's Christmas Eve morning... Every year up until now, I've always gone with my dad and my brother to a diner in town for soup and rice pudding.  Each table has its own little jukebox, with Christmas music available no matter what time of year it is, and we always made sure to bring quarters so that we could listen to Winter Wonderland, Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree, and Blue Christmas.  We'd take a stroll in the park, too-- when we were little, this was so my mom could have some time to wrap Christmas presents without us knowing about it.  I don't know what we thought she was doing-- we always had to wait in the car while my dad checked if we could come in yet.  But he would walk around the park, reciting the first few lines of "The Village Smithee," a poem he had to write a hundred times as a punishment in school.  If he could find a bench to stand on while he was reciting it, he was even more pleased.  Zach and I would tug on his arms-- "C'mon, Dad!  Stop it!  We're cold, let's get in the car!"  But Dad would always insist we walk around the park just one more time.  I would give anything to be able to take just one more walk around the park.

We're having a blue Christmas without you, Dad.  Love and miss you so much.

♥