Dec 22, 2014

though it's been said many times, many ways....

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NOEL. >> christmas. >> the only word in the world that echoes of such joy, nostalgia, and child-like excitement. to be honest, i haven't felt this thrill for the christmas season in a very long time. 'tis rather a shame what zeal one loses with time and age. but as a college girl, christmas to me will always be inviting with the warm reminder that i'm coming home. while my desk has been overflowing with crafty goodness and my books are filled to the margins with brainstorms and dizzying checklists, i've accomplished little crafting this year {as compared to the past three [deepest apologies to my dearest penpals]}, since i only came home a week prior. i've determined to spend more quality time with mum shopping and relaxing with dad over a cuppa coffee than shutting myself up in the room with a sewing machine. i'm stealing moment, which in turn call for sacrifices, but i'm seizing memories that will last me through the bitter months ahead. of course, my dear jw and i had to squeeze in a traditional Skype crafting date as we couldn't be together in person, but most of my time has been devoted to much needed rest after a hectic semester. 

though it's been said, many times, many ways...
joyeux noël. felix navidad. frohe weihnachten. С Рождеством. buon natale. 
merry christmas to you. 
in excelsis deo // xx

postscript // i hope to write up a few posts while i'm on break, but from now on until summer, you'll be able to find me more on insta and vsco grid. 
p.s.s. is christmas really in three days? good grief. i need to get something done. 
be a dear and stop by sometime, m'kay? 
i'll have homemade hot chocolate, a bowl of freshly-picked pomegranates, and some homemade english walnut toffee waiting for you. 

Dec 16, 2014

i've come home.

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Coming Home (part II) by Skylar Grey on Grooveshark


in truth, i haven’t changed. not much anyhow. maybe i’ll be lucky to claim being a half an inch taller than my mum, and my legs will be a bit toner from running to and fro, trying to beat the clock. maybe my skin’s stretched a bit, and my bones are a bit harder, and my sleep will be a bit sweeter. perhaps, i’m more comfortable being uncomfortable than i realize. maybe i can claim i’m braver being on my own, but i still feel at times like i’m being tossed about in a sea of people. maybe i’ll be able to say i’m a bit bolder and a little less lonely, but my voice still shakes in the crowd and i still chew on words that are left unsaid. my soul still shakes at the thought of change, even though the world has proved over and over it changes in the blink of an eye. maybe my hearts been left in a few more places and people than when i left. 

maybe i have changed, maybe i haven’t. 
but one thing hasn’t changed:
wherever my adventures take me, no matter how far or for how long, 
tell the world i’m coming home. 
xx
listening // i. || ii. || iii. 

Aug 29, 2014

it's 5:31 in california, and i'm missing home.

 photo IMG_1887JPG_zps02ce3353.jpegthey said you'd feel it, after the excitement of adventure and the congratulatory remarks wore off: you'd feel it sewn into your spine when you smelled a certain scent on the breeze or noted the absence thereof. you'd feel it when you realized the crickets didn't sing to each other out the window at dusk. you'd feel it when the hills slipped away, replaced by endless miles of woods and foreign red ocean. 

the timepiece by my bed says 7:30, but in my mind it's 5:30 back in California and the sun is slanting through the lattice french doors, spilling august, honey-tinted light all over the dining room floors. the open windows are allowing a sweet breeze to let full reign through the house, while a dove's gentle cooing haunts the otherwise serene world out of doors. on the other side of the garage, heirloom tomatoes are warm and ripe under the age-old lilac tree. 


it's 5:31 back in California, 

and i'm missing home. 
xx 
postscript // a playlist pour vous that reminds me of home.