Ode to an Order

It all starts with a want. Not a need of the body or of the spirit but a want, sometimes unreasonable and often unnecessary.

The process is simple and profound. Desire turns to action and that action spurs a sense of urgency.

All at once, you make the decision and want the outcome.

You need so badly for the thing you crave to arrive quickly that you fear others might see your process and want to take part, only delaying your satisfaction.

You move quickly so as not to draw attention or cause questions. Others will later be inspired by your initiative and probably follow in your footsteps.

Acting on what you want is important. It’s easy when you have the will and satisfying when you have the means.

Small decisions make the difference in changing your situation for the better. They can turn a problem into a solution and your desires into your wildest realities.

Take the chance. Place the order. Decide to choose and then prepare for the speedy arrival of your imaginings.

Saved by SATC

From the time I was 8 years old and I picked up my first Vogue, I was singularly focused on fashion and its roll in self expression. 

I never knew anyone else who cared to know what a Dior Saddle Bag looked like or that late 80's Calvin Klein pioneered the minimalist trend that took over the 90's. 

Sarah Jessica Parker as Carrie Bradshaw was the first interaction I had with someone who felt like me. 

She was unashamed of her wild curls, which I myself battled in the age of the Hot Tools flat iron. 

She was unapologetic in mixing prints, exaggerating textures, and crafting looks that exuded personality. 

Carrie Bradshaw made it possible for me to survive the personality stifling hallways of middle class suburbia and gave me hope that one day, when I moved to the city, I'd be able to unapologetically dress to my preference and be just as extra as I felt necessary.

I'll be forever grateful <3

Happy 20 year anniversary to Sex and the City and the people who helped us realize that it's the differences in us that make us all the same. 

Defining an Eagles Fan

It was probably around 1995 when I first realized what it meant to be an Eagles fan.

Whenever we had family over you could always find my uncle, cousin and 2 older brothers on the Kelly-green couch downstairs watching TV.

I’m 10 and 13 years younger than my brothers and my cousin, so I was always a bit of an annoyance. I asked lots of questions, still do, and regularly tattled when they said I wasn’t welcome, still happens.

I remember asking my mom why they were always yelling at the TV, after tattling that they just kicked me out of the den.

She said it was because the Eagles were on.

I recall going back downstairs and strategically not asking questions for fear of getting kicked out, again. I just sat quietly, listened a lot and yelled when the boys did.

Being an Eagles fan means that you don’t always get what you want. That sometimes you're not the classiest or the best sport or sometimes even the winner. But, win or loose, you show up willing to throw down.

As long as the Philadelphia Eagles play football, I’ll be watching and willing the win with everything I’ve got.

We fly together and that’s what has always made us champions.

FLY EAGLES FLY <3 

The Day I Found My Church in Olympia

I waited silently listening to the countless French conversations going on around me as I took my place in line to enter the Musee D'Orsay. As I made my way to the ticket counter, I prepped for the looming French encounter I was about to have. Being the award winning anticipator I am, I must have said, "Bonjour Monsieur, un billet pour le musée s'il vous plait" at least a million times in my head. 

After successfully delivering my lines, I entered the museum.

It was an enormous open room with 3 visible levels that had art covering every inch of wall and floor. 

I was overtaken by massive marble sculptures of warriors and women. They were perfect and smooth and crafted in such a way that they demanded your attention. 

I made my way through the color clashes of Gauguin to the pointed presentations of Seurat.  The first work I saw was the piece I spent the most time studying, The Circus. 

It was large, vibrant and with out a doubt the most commanding of the room. I took time to study each speck of color and how they worked together to form the whole. 

In the corner of the room were early compositional studies for the work. I loved how they were hung with the same respect as the final piece. I remembered learning what changes were made throughout its creation and thought about how art is so often perceived of as a piece of work and not the creative process used to create it. 

Since I fell into Jackson Pollock’s philosophy of creation, I’ve always valued the process over the culmination. 

I came to the 4th and final floor hours later which held the works of Renoir, Monet and Manet. Manet’s Olympia was the piece I came to this museum to see and was the obvious crown jewel of the collection because of it’s influential impact on Art’s history.

It wasn't with its creator's other works. 

I must of asked 3 attendants, “Où est l'Olympia de Manet”. I assumed I was saying it wrong because they all just stared at me in confusion. I started to just say, “Olympia? Olympia?”. The museum was closing and I was damned if I was going to leave without seeing Her. 

I came to learn that she was in room 14 on the ground level. I was thankful to the gift shop attendant for that information and for not looking at me like my French was made out of trash off the street. 

I ran down as everyone else ran up. Going against the rhythmic flow of tourists earned me more than a few snooty looks from the tired stewards. 

Then, finally, there was Olympia. 

She was hidden in a lower offset room. She was beautifully hung alone on a stark red wall which was a perfect and conscious choice made by the curator. She needed to be displayed in an atmosphere that adequately exuded the very elements she defined. Passion, individualism and most of all declaration. 

Olympia led a ground breaking revolution for Manet’s followers. All of this was instantly evident when I stood before her. 

To be able to see the details in the silk of her unworn dressing gown or the fierceness in the eyes of the cat at her feet was truly defining. I remembered every detail and its symbolism as I stood in awe of her. 

I finally was forced to leave Her room when an attendant found me and said that the museum closed 20 minutes ago. I guess everyone learns English when it’s after museum hours. 

I left, but I took my time. How many others can say they walked the galleries of the Musee D’Orsay alone, unclouded by the noise and looming presence of the crowds. 

That was one of the most inspiring and excitedly invigorating experiences of my life. 

I walked past Gauguin’s Self Portrait with Yellow Christ and knew that this was a moment that would define my person. 

It was the moment I found out what my faith is and that my particular kind of faith rests in this beautiful, wholly creative collection of processes and their works. This day determined my place of worship, my transcendental cause. 

This was my church and I defined it.