A View Into the Life

Delos

2007-05-30T07:01:00.000-07:00

Delos is the birthplace of Apollo.
During the Hellenistic period the city was a major port of trade both in terms of goods and slaves. The city had no planning in terms of building or population control, thus is suffered from poor planning and over-crowding. At its height over 30,000 people lived there. The architecture of the homes and buildings started in Delos and then was copied in parts of Italy and Pompeii. The houses were made of granite, mud, and stone and the main source of light came from oil lamps, candles, and the homes also had no roofs.

The theater of Delos

The museum of Delos

Yep, it's a giant penis.

Yep, it's an alter to the almighty penis.

Mykonos

2007-05-30T06:59:00.001-07:00

The pelican who joined me for lunch.
He was -- that close to me. Take your thumb and your index finger and pretend your holding a kernel of corn and that's how close he was to me. We were nose to beak.

He's finished with me.

The streets and sidewalks of Mykonos

Aphrodite's breasts. (They're kinda big. She must of had a boob job.)

The monostary of Mykonos. Camera flashes aren't allowed inside the church, thus the blur of the pictures.

Greece

2007-05-30T06:57:00.000-07:00

Santorini: Fira

2007-05-30T06:55:00.000-07:00

Fira is the capitol of Santorini. My hotel was in the town of Kamari, which was about ten miles from the major hub.
My hotel, the Plaza. A tad different than the one in New York. My room was at the far left...the one away from all of the other rooms. Not sure why...

A church just down the road from the hotel

The streets of Santorini are essentially made of volcanic rock protruding from concrete. Pretty, but not easy or comfortable to walk on.

Santorini: The volcano hike and boat cruise

2007-05-30T06:40:00.000-07:00

The climb to the top of the volcano. (Still active, by the way.) The volcano has erupted several times. The last time was 1954. Santorini is basically thousands of years of volcanic matter that has built on top of itself. The caldera that surrounds the island is the largest volcano crater in the world (and I swam in it!)

Um, guys. Can you wait for me?

Big volcanic rock

It was either big rocks like this, or small tiny pebbles that I had to walk on. Not easy.
What happens if I choose the wrong path?

A view of Santorini from the sea.

This was the view for my lunch. The boat pulled into this seaside town and I ate rooftop with the sound of the waves and the sea air. I met three lovely ladies on the boat who joined me for this wonderfully simple meal. Lunch consisted of a grilled calamari shish-ka-bob. I'm sure it was caught just an hour or so before I devoured it. It was grilled with just a few simple, small pieces, of vegetables. It tasted of salt and freshness. The view helped enhance the taste.

This is the same type of boat that I was on.

Right after I came out of the "hot springs" (they were more luke-warm than hot.) I had to swim through the 60 degree water to get to the luke-warm springs and then swim back through the freezing water to get back on the boat. The boat directors didn't think this plan through. I jumped in without a thought to the temperature or what might be swimming underneath me. (A small scream was emitted when I came up for air. Um, burr.)

Athens: Zeus' Temple

2007-05-30T06:36:00.000-07:00

The thing that struck me the most about the ruins of Athens, is that they are literally right among the modern city. There is the ancient and the modern right next to each other. After thinking about it, of course it makes sense. The ruins were the city in ancient times. However, from a preservation stand-point, it seems odd.

The entrance to Zeus' Temple at night.

Athens: The Acropolis

2007-05-30T06:33:00.000-07:00

Although there were literally thousands of other people trying to take in the site; I tried to image no one else there and what it must have been like when it was first built and in the height of Athenian history. Touching the marble and imaging the speeches, and platforms that leaders took on the site. To walk and stand on the smooth, slick, marble steps and to walk on the pebbles around the Acropolis, to be among thousands of years of history and to still be able to see and recognize the history before me, no words can adequately describe it.

Just in case there was any question as to where I am.

The view of Athens from the Acropolis

...and at night time. Beautiful.

Athens: The Streets of the Palka

2007-05-30T06:30:00.000-07:00

To walk on thousands of years of history and where untold and told history has taken place? I tried to remember and reflect that with each step I took on the cobblestone before me and below me. I would try to image the sites, the sounds, the smells, and all of the people and history that walked before me on those streets, sidewalks. I tried to image all of the sites, sounds, and history that was still uncovered and that could possibly still be laid below me on the cobblestone streets.

I walked all over the church, or whatever this is, trying to figure out what it was. No, idea. Never found a plaque or anything to give an English speaking American girl a clue of an idea. Of course it is written in Greek above the door, but I can't read Greek. However, I thought the woodwork and carving was something to take in.

I have no idea what this is. It looked old, ruined, and it had scaffolding around it, that equals importance therefore, a picture was taken. Color me a tourist.

This is where I was minding my own business, dup-da-dup-da-do, walking down the ancient streets when, Ta dah! There it was. The Holy Grail. Well, not really. Really, it is the Acropolis. Right there. On a hill. Crazy.

So nice, I published it twice!

They really are everywhere!

This is how I felt after my trip. Of course, I would be a girl dog who is laying all spread-leg and belly up, but still. This is pretty much how I felt. Man, that dog wouldn't move for anything or anyone. It was pushed, moved, swept-aside by the shop keeper whose door he was laying in front of...nope. That dog didn't move, didn't change position, nothin'. The dog stole my heart and my laugh. I think this picture is hilarious and says so much.

Athens: Archaeological Museum

2007-05-30T06:26:00.000-07:00

Sadly, by the time I made it to the museum I was absolutely exhausted and dead-thirsty. Drinking water was nowhere to be found and I was reduced to sucking water from the sink in the bathroom. Seriously, I had walked, and walked, and walked...repeat several times...for many hours and many miles. An hour of looking at old stuff was quite the accomplishment and two pictures were all I could muster. Plus, I still had miles to walk back to my hotel room. I'm surprised I still have skin left on my feet, air left in my lungs, and sweat left in my glands.

Athens: Lunch in the Palka

2007-05-30T06:25:00.001-07:00

I hate anything touristy and I hate looking or doing anything typically tourist. I always try to go to the out-of-the-way places that, it can at least seem, that the locals go to. This was the scene for my lunch in the Palka. It was hidden, little English was spoken, the atmosphere was park-like, and the food was excellent and made even more excellent because it was cheap. Perfect.

Boston: North End

2007-05-30T06:23:00.001-07:00

I was exhausted and the weather was miserable, but I was determined to see Bean Town. God help me, I was going to see the town in all of its Northeastern miserable glory. The temp was 45 degrees, it was, as the park ranger told me, "...Umbrella killer weather," and the rain was barking and meowing. Still, I loved The Bean and plan to go back this summer.

Boston: Fenway Park

2007-05-30T06:00:00.000-07:00

Fenway Park
First: My seats were unbelievably awesome.

Second: The game, the park, the fans, the food, the everything was amazing.

Third: It was absolutely freezing the night of the game. It was 35 degrees, not including windchill. Seeing as how I just came from the Mediterranean, I wasn't prepared. Hence, the layers of clothing (one long-sleeve t-shirt, one sweater, on sweatshirt hoodie, one light spring jacket.)and the purchase of the $75 Red Sox hoodie.

Totally worth the suffering.

The latest

2007-02-28T19:09:00.000-08:00

This the same photo from before, I just added the red and I am finally happy with it. It faces my bed so it's what I wake up to every morning. I wasn't happy with the painting. One Sunday I got out of bed, put on my glasses and took it off the wall. I slapped some paint on a brush, made som strokes on the canvas, smiled and hung it back on the wall with the paint still wet.

"1976" Because it reminds me of something from the 70's. The colors don't translate well in a photo. The background is seafoam green and the squares are deep green and gold with white around them.

"Tribal"
My girlfriend asked me to make a painting for her and this was the outcome. She loved it. There may be more to come from this as well. I gave it to her at work and well, the response was pretty fucking awesome from all of our co-workers. I had some request from others. For the others I told them what the minimum charge would be. They were fine with it.
Let's here it, whoo-hoo!

sure it's pretty...but

2007-02-25T10:24:00.000-08:00

"

"

"

What you can't see is the several layers of ice underneath all of the fluffy white stuff. Needless to say my weekend was spent trapped inside my apartment. Needless to say, my night out on Friday with Mr. London was cancelled.

Poop stain.

my latest painting and the latest snowfall

2007-01-28T10:14:00.000-08:00

It is entitled, "Falling Leaves"
The colors are: gold, orange, brown, and deep red.

This is a close up of the painting.

The latest snowfall

I think daisies look so sweet, friendly

2007-01-20T13:28:00.000-08:00

my inner artist

2007-01-20T13:24:00.000-08:00

Okay, so understand that trying to take a picture of a painting things are lost in the translation. Plus, a picture of a painting is kind of an oxy moron.

I adore this painting.
Black background with deep purple and bright red swirls highlighted by white.

I didn't like the fact that I couldn't get the colors perfect, the way I wanted them to be. Then I realized love isn't perfect, therefore a painting called love shouldn't be perfect. The colors are much brighter in person.

I had a completely different idea for this painting. However, I'm happy with it. Dark blue background, silver circles, black lines outlined by white.

Trapped: This was going to be yours. The new one will be the same colors, different theme. Gold background, lines and circles are a mixture of burnt amber, bright red, and gold.

The end of summer

2006-09-17T11:26:00.000-07:00

relax

2006-09-04T17:02:00.000-07:00

2006-09-04T16:58:00.000-07:00

I think these have a very fairy, dream-like, quality to them.

2006-09-04T16:57:00.000-07:00

Sadie, the seven pound wonder dog.

spoooky

2006-09-04T16:52:00.000-07:00

I know these are all out of focus, but here's the thing, they shouldn't be. I couldn't get a single picture to be infocus. I thought the outcome looks very cool.

art work

2006-09-04T16:50:00.000-07:00

2006-09-04T16:43:00.000-07:00

Pictures from my summer vacation

2006-08-24T18:39:00.000-07:00

I hear the train a comin', it's coming down the tracks....

My breathing space
If I could have an old farmhouse in the middle of a field like this....heaven....

The road not taken

Progress

I don't know why I took a picture of a dead fish, but I did

Pointing out the obvious. Or maybe it's just so we don't get lost along the way.

2006-08-06T16:36:00.000-07:00

one of my paintings, minus a frame.

another painting, minus a frame.

a chair I designed when I was 19.

just remember to take the lids off every once in awhile.

my deck garden

2006-08-06T16:26:00.000-07:00

Basil

My favorite, my shrimp bush

bird feeder, minus food or birds. How odd.

more from the shrimp bush

my favorite, mini sunflowers

lavender

Sexy calm

2006-06-29T18:14:00.000-07:00

making the sauce

2006-06-29T18:11:00.000-07:00

Parts from my solace

2006-06-29T18:05:00.000-07:00

Hope

Please, grow. Please, grow.

Hook, Line and Sinker; A Submission out to the publishers; eagerly awaiting a rejection letter

2006-06-16T12:23:00.000-07:00

I find myself thinking about him in everyday situations. At odd and random times throughout the day that are unexpected but pleasantly so. That feeling of being somewhere else, doing something else, going about my business, but my mind is completely somewhere not in the present tense. Those times throughout the day when I don’t even realize I’m daydreaming. I’m going about my day enjoying my surroundings and my thoughts; then I suddenly feel myself being pulled back through a worm hole somewhere in time and space back into the present tense called, reality. Blinking my eyes from their staring-off into-space-dried-out-glaze when I realize I was lost in my daydream too long. It’s those moments in my everyday when I get lost. Lost in my thoughts. Thinking about how he looks at me. How his eyes go over me. Lovingly go over me. That’s all it takes for me to drift off into a lovely daydream about him.

How he looks at me first thing in the morning when I roll over towards him after shutting off the alarm. My eyes are still closed, yet I can feel his blue eyes looking at me.
How he looks at me when we sit next to each other at the bar with our cocktail glasses sweating in the summer air. I slowly stir my vodka cranberry together watching the ice and cranberry colored alcohol swirl together in the glass. The ice chunks make the lovely sound as they clink together doing their do-si-do around the glass. The dance of the ice brings the sweet smell of cranberry perfuming its way up from my glass and into the night air. It’s a sexual gesture even when I don’t mean for it to be.

All of the times we sat across from each other he starts with his hand on my knee at the beginning of the night, but as the night progresses so does his hand. His hand slowly, lovingly creeps up my thigh and slowly, lovingly makes its way under my skirt. All of those times, those times we started the night out by smiling slyly to each other with a knowing look in each others eyes and either leaving as soon as we greeted each other when we knocked on the other’s apartment door; letting the tension build up between us. Or sometimes, often, more times than not we started the night by entering the others apartment, greeting each other with a kiss of, ‘Hello,’ which would immediately lead into more. We would either slowly, teasingly undress each other or, at other times, in a frantic rush of pheromones tear the clothes from each other. Only to, an hour or so later, put our, now wrinkled clothes, back on before heading out the door both knowing full well how the night would end. How we both wanted it to end. The night together. Our nights together. Lying together naked on top of the sheets. It never matters whose bed we end up in at the end of the night, just as long as it is in one of ours.
The quick, abrasive sound of the phone ringing cuts into my thoughts. I snap my head towards the phone, blinking my eyes several times helping my mind land back to the present. When I see on the caller ID that it is him, I let the annoyance of my warm and peacefully, lost in a daydream state of mind, go. Plus, it’s an excuse to end my workout.
“Hello, handsome.” I say, answering the phone.
“Are you seeing anyone else?”
Huh? Where’d that come from? I thought, I don’t know that I’m seeing anyone let alone, seeing anyone else. How should I answer that? I only want to be seeing him, but should I tell him that? I am certainly dating a couple of other men. I am definitely always looking at other men. On the weekends I am certainly on the prowl, but seeing anyone? I’m trying to decide how honest I should be, but I have a feeling the prolonged pause on my end of the phone is speaking volumes and I probably don’t need to say anything.
“Well?” It sounds more like a command than a question. “Are you?”
The thirty-six minutes I just completed on the cross trainer put me through my paces, however, I feel the conversation I have very unwittingly encountered is going to end up being the more intense workout.
I step off the cross trainer and make my way into the living room and sit in my recliner. I slowly untie my shoes, peel off my socks and pull my knees up to my chest. Unconsciously I start to suck on my right thumb nail. I feel like he’s fishing. Fishing around for answers because he can’t come right out and ask me what he wants to know. I hate it when guys fish. It’s such an easy bullshit way for them to be pussies about asking something. It’s also an easy way for the girl to screw herself into answering more than she should and telling more than what was asked and in the end the guy comes out smelling like a peach. Plus, I have to wonder, after my pregnant pause, do I even need to answer the question? I highly doubt it. Yet, against my better judgment, I do.
“What exactly do you want to know? What are you asking me? Am I dating? Yes. Am I currently sleeping with someone else? No. If an opportunity arises, pun not intended, am I going to take it? Yes.”
Now it is his turn to be silent on the other end. I’m not sure if this is what he was expecting me to say or not. I am only being honest. I’m not trying to be cruel or hurtful. I am simply being honest.
“So,” his tone is fragile, child-like, “you’re sleeping with other people.”
“Again, on a regular basis, no.” I’m not sure if this is a good thing to say or not. I am basically admitting to the occasional one-night stand. Are one-night stands better or worse than a regular basis? I’m guessing worse. At least with a Mr. Regular there is familiarity, commitment of some kind. With a Mr. One Night it’s a, “Hey, how you doin’, let’s get it on.” kind of thing. Maybe a Mr. Regular is worse, because there is a familiarity, a commitment. The whole time all of this is swirling around in my mind there is silence on the other end of the phone. Absolute silence.
In those few deafening seconds of silence our whole history goes through my mind because I know this is the end. The end of us, whatever, “us” is. The end to our all night conversations. The end to our laughter and inside jokes, to our sarcastic one-liners back and forth between us that only we think are funny. To our late nights out at the bars. The end to the familiarity with the drinks we would order, the bars we went to. An end to the way he looked at me when we sat across from one another. The way his eyes went over me. Oh, so lovingly went over me. The way he would say the words, “You are so sexy.” God. That was the best. To hear those words, those words that may or may not have been true at the time he was saying them. They were true to him. In his eyes no matter when or where, I was sexy.
This is it. No more of any of it. All gone. Did I do it? Did I put an end to it, to us? No. I didn’t do anything wrong. We have been dating each other for three months, but we never set up any terms.
I hear him clear his throat on the other end of the phone and I realize the silence has been too long. I open my mouth to speak, but before I have a chance to say anything he says, “I’ve been seeing someone for a little over a month now and I think I love her.”
Huh? Wait. What? What did he just say? What the hell? I feel as if there is a canon ball on my chest, on my stomach. I’m going to be sick. I’m suddenly sweating all over. The sweat on the back of my scalp is no longer from my workout. A month? Wait, did he say a little over a month? How can that be true? How can he be seeing someone and be in love with them? With her? He was with me only a couple of nights ago, not to mention the amount of times we went out in the last month. The month that he just said he met and fell in love with some nameless, her.
With an accusing tone, “Um, did you say a little over a month? And you think you’re in love? So, what, this whole conversation was just a set up, trying to get me to be the asshole, the whore? What the fuck? Huh, what-the-fuck?”
“I just wanted to see where we were, where you thought we were. I really thought you and I could be something, go somewhere when we first met and then, I don’t know... we were great friends having great sex. I don’t know why or how or pin point when, it just happened. I wasn’t looking for it. It just happened.”
‘It just happened.’ This has to be the most bullshit line ever said in the history of dating. That and, “It’s not you, it’s me,” bullshit break-up line. Bullshit. This is bullshit. Why am I angry? Why do I suddenly care so much that he is seeing someone, sleeping with someone? Is it because he dared to say, admit, that he is in love? In love with someone and it isn’t me. Of course it’s not with me. It’s never with me. Why is it never with me? Why is it never in love with me?
Trying to hide the sweat and vomit from my voice, “So, now what? What? That’s it? You love her and so no more me?”
“Well, I guess so. I mean, I love her. I can’t help it, I do. I still want to be friends with you. I love hanging out with you. I love our conversations. I’ve never met someone who was so easy to talk to and just be with, and the sex, my God….”
I stop listening at this point. I’m sitting on the edge of my recliner staring at my feet. My big toe has never seemed so interesting to me.
I try and process what he just said. Is he being serious? Is he even listening to himself and all the blathering he’s doing? Let’s piece that bit of trifle together shall we? He loves her, but he loves our conversations, how great and easy they are. How easy it is to just be with me. Of course he mentioned the sex. However, he wants to be friends with me because he loves her…
I just sit.
Sit and stare at my big toe.
Fuckin’ A.
How do I meet these guys?
That’s what they all are too, guys. I need to find a man. A nice decent, boy next door, man.
I drift off into my thoughts when I realize the yapping in my ear is still him going on and on. I cut him off in the middle of a sentence because I have no idea what he is saying, yet more importantly, I don’t care. “Hey, you know what, I gotta go. I really gotta go.”
As I stab the, “off,” button with my left thumb disconnecting him from my life and from my brain, all I hear is, “but…” on the other end.
I stand in the middle of my living room staring at, but not really seeing the pictures on my walls. I stand there, feeling the carpet beneath my bare feet, the cordless phone in my left hand while I mindlessly tap my front teeth with my right index finger. I rub my stomach trying to calm the knots that have been created. The feeling of vomit that crept into my throat has since passed.
I walk over to put the phone back in its cradle, thinking, “Great conversations. Would still like to be friends. The sex. The ability to just be.” Rolling my eyes and shaking my head, “What the fuck ever.”
I make my way into the bathroom, pull back the shower curtain, and turn the oversized silver faucets to the place where I know the water temperature will be hot to the point that it will shock my skin, yet soothe my soul and strip myself naked.
I catch my reflection in the mirror and take several minutes to look myself in the face. To look myself directly in the eyes; to really look at the person staring back at me. To see me. I hear the tub start to fill up with water off in the distance while I have an internal dialog. Staring myself right in the face, directly in both eyes, I say out-loud to my refection, “Stop the bullshit.”
I pull my hair out of the sweaty Fruity Pebble ponytail, I don’t care that I rip some hair out with the rubber band. I step into the shower, I’ve let the water run for so long that it is more than ankle deep, I reach up and pull the curtain forward and lean my face and shoulders under the hot water moving my head from side to side. I take in all the heat and steam; letting my soul take in all the soothing goodness, and I wash him away. I wash it all away.

2006-06-15T10:46:00.000-07:00

I am not
a mystery
unto myself.

a view from my deck garden

2006-06-14T21:21:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I feel like this