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// today i made //

the very beginnings of an app idea

sometimes selecting a gift is easy, other times… not so much.
we are all in motion, shifting our likes and interests like the wind on an autumn afternoon.
maybe we were really into zen meditation last year, and this year it’s all ballet and lattes.
how do we keep up with each other? well, touchstone is going to do its best to help!

imagine the friend who is impossible to pin down; she is constantly re-inventing herself.
you’re at a loss as to what to get or do for this friend, and her birthday is coming up fast!

touchstone allows you to create a profile for each person in your life, keeping a log of gifts you have each exchanged, important dates in her life and that you share (friendsiversary!), as well as a love list for items or experiences in which she’s expressed an interest. easy, right?

but there’s more!
my favorite part of touchstone is the ability to craft a questionnaire and send it to this ever-changing lady.
questions like: what is she currently reading? where has she eaten recently and just loved? what color is her aura right now?

touchstone will help you find your way to the perfect-for-this-moment gift

oh my love

// today i made //

a pinterest-y thing

it was raining this morning
and all i wanted was to while away the day
reveling in the simplicity of a quiet life

i’ve a yen to learn calligraphy
or really, to just get better at simple script

untitled no.005

// today i made //

a poem

it spilled out of me
as if it had been quietly waiting
for me to notice it


… … … … … … … … … … 

her freckles 
are constellations
that no man has 

over time shifting
and expanding 
to fit a life stretched thin
until they no longer 

untitled no.003

// today i made // 

a short story

i’ve been writing.
there, i said it.
i haven’t told anyone, so this is me coming out of the kinda-sorta-writing closet.

i do it for myself, but maybe there is something in the words that will resonate with you, too.

An anemic breeze shuffles the dirt a few inches along the walkway outside a small farmhouse.

“It was once white, this house, but the wind constantly shoves against it and now it’s the color of old rust. You know the color, like when blood mixes with dirt and dries all cake-like. The shutters were green, a color never before seen on this planet before we came falling from the butterscotch-colored sky like an overthrown baseball through a neighbor’s window.

I’ve lived here since the day I came howling into the world; screaming like I already knew the injustices it had in store for us. I never knew my mama, she died after pushing me feet-first into this world. The medics weren’t equipped to handle a pregnancy like hers; forced onto a strange world as they were, with meager supplies. A baby girl that was turned ‘round wrong was not part of the plan. First one to be born here, first one to die here: that’s a family legacy if ever there was one.

Nine long months in a metal box. Just to move from one dead planet to another. My parents didn’t know I was coming. It was near three months before mama put the pieces together: one last bit of lovin’ on earth before heading to the stars, and I was the result.

My da named me Tera, a sloppy homage to the planet that birthed him. A planet that eventually killed eighty percent of us. But the history books will tell you all about that. If they ever get ‘round to writing them, that is. Not much time for history anymore. It’s all farming and modified genetics. Not exactly the most comfortable of bedfellows, but there you have it.”

Another bit of wind touches the dirt, momentarily swirling it up to the sky and hazing the carmine ridges in the distance.

“It’s the art I feel I should miss most. Not that I saw any of it, mind. But my da would tell me about visiting museums when he was young and able to travel from one country to the next. Before the borders all closed. He would talk about the shapes and textures of things, and of course the colors. I don’t know what purple looks like, or aqua. Green is the paint on the faded shutters that mama smuggled into her bag. Da said blue is maybe close to the color of the sky near to the sun as it sinks below the ridges. Kinda soothing-like. But red… red I know all too well. Every damn variation of the color, from burnt umber to the deepest ruby.

They say we can go back home after twelve generations. That the damage will have run its course and we can try to re-colonize. Will we want to?

I don’t know. Maybe we’ll grow to love this rusted-out planet. I’ve been at war with it since birth, and it hasn’t beat me yet. And y’know what they say: love and hate are one half-step removed. Maybe in a few generations we’ll think of it as home. We’ll paint landscapes of undulating dunes, of cracked and wavering deserts, and call it fine art. The beginning of a red period maybe, since the blue period is forever lost to us.”

neither this nor that

// today i made //

a logo-ish thing

i love the concept of betwixt & between
meaning not fully or properly either of two things
and when applied to monograms –
which are composed of two or more letters, but are not truly those letters
rather somewhere in the middle –
it’s magical

wavy lines for days

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