"And still the box is not full"

I devoured John Steinbeck's East of Eden the first time I read it. Swept up in its grandeur like the dry dust in the Salinas Valley wind that Steinbeck depicts, I must have missed the beautiful dedication page. It was evidently a note Steinbeck wrote and attached to the mahogany box he specifically carved to hold his epic manuscript. He sent these things to his old friend, Pascal Convici.

A favorite high school English teacher once told me that she never re-reads a book because "there are too many good ones still out there." But repeat readings appeal to me in their freedom: freedom to savor words and revel in their beauty, freedom to find those little gems one discovers only after the thrill of literary expedition wears off. These books that become like old friends.

Dear Pat,
You came upon me carving some kind of little figure out of wood and you said, "Why don't you make something for me?"
I asked you what you wanted, and you said, "A box."
"What for?"
"To put things in"
"What things?"
"Whatever you have," you said.
Well, here's your box. Nearly everything I have is in it, and it is not full. Pain and excitement are in it, and feeling good or bad and evil thoughts and good thoughts-- the pleasure of design and some despair and the indescribable joy of creation.
And on top of these are all the gratitude and love I have for you.
And still the box is not full.

John

(photo by Dani Padgett)

Fancy Feet



Ok, here's my first post of something concerning Asia. It's kind of a fake-out, but if you really want to see the action, JJB has put up an impressive number of photos on Facebook. Tackling the enormity of my trip has been daunting and intimidating. I guess I'll just have to take it one step at a time. Literally.

These shoes are probably the most gratuitously trendy ones I've ever owned. I have a hard time justifying large sums of money spent on shoes, especially when they will only be worn for a few seasons. However, I've been told to "live a little" (by my fashion-week-participant friend, Helen), so I bought these babies in an underground stand in Seoul, Korea for around $26.

Cut-out Booties, I'm hoping that you with your snakeskin platform and heel and candy-red imitation of Louboutin class will be sticking around for a while. But even if not, for your price tag, I suppose I'm ok with your "the now rather than the forever" persona. Let's go dancing soon.

PS. I hope JJB does an update of her fabulously chic shoes from Asia. They are so sexy!

Quotability

Have an inspired week!

(from weheartit)

Letters of Note

Author: Barack Obama

Letters of Note is a fabulous blog by Shaun Usher that only posts letters. It has fascinating original correspondences of faith, love, and loathing that are touching, hilarious, and incredibly interesting. With emails, texting, facebook, and twitter, I hope the art of letter-writing is not lost. Receiving snail mail is such a treat! Furthermore, as seen here, a well-written letter provides such unique insights about one's character, facets of personality usually lost in instantaneous communication. Also, isn't it so encouraging to see how kind humans can be to one another?

My favorite one so far: Hang on, my love

Suiting Up

"You're considered superficial and silly if you are interested in fashion, but I think you can be substantial and still be interested in frivolity."

Sofia Coppola

I'm sitting at my new desk, a little early for my new position that I officially start in about 45 minutes. I must confess, my two biggest concerns last night were "What do I wear" and "What's for lunch". Fashion and food, people. Have I ever been concerned with much else?

(photo by The Sartorialist)

PS. Some of the biggest perks of this new job is that I'll be seeing a lot more of her, him, and Katie!

Subway Car Reflections

Very often, I don't feel like my 20-something years at all. In line with the quarter-life crisis or the increasingly popular theory of delayed adulthood, I find in lieu of actually taking much action, I think elaborate thoughts of "I would do X, if Y" and I daydream plans of "if A, then I would do B". Hiding behind many insignificant, self-imposed constraints, I definitely forget how great it is to be a young adult.

For a single day over this Labor Day weekend, I met up with Helen and D in Manhattan. Expertly guided by city-savvy H, we made our way through NYC neighborhoods and places I had only read about in glossy magazines or saw on TV. Through the day, I found myself incredulous at certain moments: I was slightly amazed when our names were called for our lunch reservations at a Zagat-rated hot-spot. I felt deliciously indulgent, when, after lunch, we carelessly gorged ourselves on cup cakes and brownies, then fresh figs all afternoon long as we lounged in the trendiest park just because we felt like it. I caught myself marveling when we grocery shopped and then enjoyed a Debbie-directed dinner of goat-cheese, arugula, and shitaki mushroon pasta paired with a fancy salad and a deep glass of a merlot malbec blend in an impressively clean Williamsburg apartment just because we were ironically too lazy to go out to eat. I still paused in wonderment as we buzzed up boys, no, men, into this apartment late at night for an evening of catching up on life since high school just because we wanted to.

When I left and was making my way back to my family in Queens, the night had picked up a capricious wind that relentlessly threatened to blow up my dress. Hopping the L to the 4 to the 7 train, my thoughts meandered smoothly, unperturbed by the jolts, lights, and noises of the subway cars I sat in. I was serene and content, feeling a strong affection for these friends from high school - all of whom are such well-adjusted individuals doing powerful, meaningful, important work. But perhaps the greatest surprise of the night was that I was feeling this same affection for myself, for joining, maybe just temporarily, but joining nonetheless, the ranks of adults who have successfully attempted this transition before me.

As I sat alone, physically worn out but spiritually renewed, I felt like for a day, I had left the lost and dreary 20-something culture and was part of an altogether different zeitgeist: the one in which young adults claim and celebrate their youth by dabbling in the world of modern sophistication and all the charming adult-ish trappings that come with it. I have a feeling that before long, these will become the stories of the rest of my life.

(photos by the lovely Helen and Debbie)