Stale Macarons

Things you can do to be happier:

Sun, 08 Jul 2012 22:13:46 -0400

Go to bed earlier

Finish things ahead of time

Eat whole-food

Exercise

Be present

Organize

Listen to music

Think positively

Drink lots of water

Journal

Read

Be productive

Eat fresh fruit

Breathe deeply

Go for a bike ride

Confetti

Sun, 01 Jul 2012 16:43:00 -0400

*A little story I wrote…-JB

“For women… the dream is the truth, then they act and do things accordingly.”

–Zora Neale Hurston

Everyone’s eyes were trained on her. Her own eyes were closed. Even if she couldn’t see her guests they saw her. They were all waiting on her to make a wish. At thirty-five Zoe was too old to believe that birthday wishes actually came true. Perhaps they did for some people, people who had not already used up all their wishes. These people were not like her. She had already spent all her wishes on the life she led now. The life she no longer wanted.

This had been what she wanted at one point or at least what she thought she wanted- the chance to return to Paris. The hoola-hoops, playdates, songs and games in French and English and the baby on her hip were all now part of her daily existence. With three small children scurrying beneath her feet she was constantly exhausted and no longer sure she had made the right decision.

She couldn’t have predicted that her life would be like this as a young woman studying abroad in Paris. Back then her days were filled with walks along the tiny, winding streets and climbing steep hills as she devoured her delicious treats found in the city’s many hidden boulangeries. On days when she did not go to class she would wake up in the morning, put her finger on the metro map and just go. Even then it wasn’t long before she learned that Paris was not the dreamland that she had hoped. Paris pulled, sucked the happiness right out of her before replacing it with something… else. Not happiness but an acute sense of reality in the midst of all the beauty she found seemingly around every corner. PARIS. The word in the mouth of an American even tasted like a cliché. Yet, she claimed it as her own personal, beloved dream. She wondered quite frequently how it was possible to love a city that was sometimes so easy to hate. The city itself seemed to reject those like her who were convinced that they are long lost French souls. She soon learned that only by accepting Paris for what it is rather than what you want it to be can you reach a place somewhat resembling your happiness lost or else numbness. She felt numb in Paris, numb and wanting for nothing. Besides, she knew now that despite her best efforts she was not French and deep down she knew that she never would be.

At the close of her study abroad semester she wept for the city she would soon leave behind. During her last night she visited the Seine. Though the mighty Seine snaked through the city under many famous bridges she opted to rest on a seldom visited bridge in the north of the city. On the occasion of her last night in Paris she deemed it only appropriate to revisit this spot she had adopted as her own on so many nights. She stared wistfully from her perch on the bridge knowing she must leave yet wishing she could stay. The Seine rushed by importantly. As she turned to leave a woman approached her. Without a word the woman reached into her purse and gave her a stone and gestured that she should throw it in the river flowing beneath them. The woman promised that if she threw the stone she would always come back to Paris. Zoe didn’t believe in magic or superstitions but her love of Paris overpowered her reasoning.

Today Zoe wished she hadn’t thrown that stone. She watched as it skipped across the surface of the river before disappearing into the depths of the Seine. She trained her eyes on the dark waters knowing that it would be the last time, at least for a while. She turned to leave and walked the two blocks to the metro stop. Upon reaching the platform she prepared herself to wait the 12 minutes that the electronic screen promised for the next train. She cursed under her breath. She often forgot that toward the end of the night the wait for a train was longer. As she stood on the lonely platform trying not to get too close to the edge she noticed that she was not in fact alone. Soon, a beautiful young man with golden hair and sheepish, sad eyes joined her on the platform. Though he was nearly 6 feet his poor posture made him look inches shorter. Handsome as he was he still wore the look of someone unconscious to the fact that the world, that Paris especially, rewarded beauty.

Ten years later she was sure that he knew that now. Then he was just a boy on the metro. Today he was her husband. Michel was as loving and supportive as he could have been and in return she couldn’t stop herself from icing over. She had wanted all of this, wanted it all. The dream of living in Paris had come true, now what? Instead of periodic vacations to her beloved city she now resided there forever. Everyday she awoke to the vision of the Eiffel Tower in the far distance outside her window. The exotic appeal was long gone though. In its’ stead was a longing. You always long for what you don’t have she could just about hear her mother say. What she no longer had was America, a singular loyalty to a country and more importantly a firm sense of belonging. She knew when she married Michel what it would mean. She knew she was joining the ranks of women forever stretched across time zones, continents, cultures and languages. When she decided to settle in France she knew that her children would become French citizens and she an ex-patriot. What a beautiful way to say outsider! Zoe told anyone who asked that she liked joining the tradition of ex-pats from America, the likes of Josephine Baker, James Baldwin, and Gertrude Stein yet she was also well aware of what she was giving up. Moving to Paris for love was a dream, for some it was the dream. Nevertheless it is a dream world made not of perfection and happiness but of disconnects, escapism, introspection, and contempt. Worst yet she was convinced that she had let her love of Paris convince her that she was in love with Michel.

Her only solace was her weekly trips on the subway when the kids were being cared for by grand-mere. Not her mother but his. Her mother was far away and so rarely seen that regrettably she had fallen into the special occasion relative group, only contacting them for weddings, funerals, graduations, and holidays. These excursions were an excuse to leave the car behind. She had promised herself long ago that she wouldn’t be one of those moms struggling with the strollers on the metro. No kids allowed, this was Mommy’s time. She sighed and let her head fall back on the worn leather metro seats. Though there was no sun in the tunnels her shades were still loosely positioned on her face. She relished the idea of anonymity. She never actually had a destination in mind. She just put her finger on a metro map and followed the winding tunnels to her destination of choice. On these trips she felt free to reflect on her life. For too long she had confused ability with desirability, forgetting that being able to do something did not necessarily mean that one should. In fact, it rarely does.

It was not until her thirty-fifth birthday that these connections and reflections all came together clearer than ever. All at once Zoe linked her current state of melancholy to her own past decisions. She was now an ex-pat woman, a lover of the dream. Blessed are those lucky to wait until their restless spirit has settled instead of settling. The fear of being trapped in Paris or anywhere suddenly scared the shit out of her. Leaning over the cake she wished only to follow her fancies and to avoid for the second time the fate of becoming prematurely old. She wanted a moveable feast of adventure and passion, to be in the thick of it. She wanted to find someone she loved more than the city. In a puff of smoke her wish, and next decision, were made.

Cute video about Paris with a cool song in the background by the...

Tue, 26 Jun 2012 14:04:12 -0400

Cute video about Paris with a cool song in the background by the Sans Culottes. As you can tell I’m a bit Paris obsessed and have been since my seven month study abroad experience there. I can’t wait for the next trip there in January (j’espere!)

Randomly this song has been stuck in my head since watching Wes...

Tue, 26 Jun 2012 13:56:50 -0400

Randomly this song has been stuck in my head since watching Wes Anderson’s Darjeeling Limited/ Hotel Chevalier.

Quiche lorraine I made this morning! (Taken with Instagram) You...

Tue, 26 Jun 2012 13:32:00 -0400

Quiche lorraine I made this morning! (Taken with Instagram) You can find the recipe here: http://www.cooks.com/rec/view/0,1626,144185-243203,00.html This has been my potluck staple for a few years now and it’s super easy to make. Pardon the picture, I forgot to take it before I ate some, I was starving this morning! But now it looks like Pacman, lol

Doing it on the daily :) (Taken with Instagram)

Tue, 26 Jun 2012 13:25:40 -0400

Doing it on the daily :) (Taken with Instagram)

My Pinterest account

Tue, 26 Jun 2012 13:14:00 -0400

My Pinterest account

Photo

Tue, 26 Jun 2012 13:10:11 -0400

Cool things

Tue, 26 Jun 2012 13:09:52 -0400

I must admit that I’ve spent most of my summer break so far in good ‘ole Bmore rocking my pajamas, lol. I know, not so glamourous. But a few cool things have been happening. First, I recently joined Pinterest and was delighted to learn that most of the bloggers that I follow also have Pinterest accounts so I’ve enjoyed following them and getting a closer look at what inspires them. More than anything I enjoy having an online space where I can gather all that interests me in one place. So I’ve decided: tumblr for my thoughts and personal style, Pinterest for my inspiration boards. You can check out my Pinterest account for yourself here: http://pinterest.com/bmorejess/.

Second, leading up to going to see Wes Anderson’s Moonrise Kingdom, Dave and I have been watching some of Anderson’s greatest hits: Rushmore, The Royal Tenenbaums, The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou and the Darjeeling Limited. I’m not sure how I missed all of these awesome films but I’m so glad I’mm caught up now. I love the color palettes, the distinct characters, the soundtracks and the humor. Moonrise Kingdom was no different. I really enjoyed it.

I'm back... I think :)

Tue, 26 Jun 2012 12:50:28 -0400

Yikes! I truly had every intention of maintaining this tumblr but I suppose I can just blame it on the chaos of life? Anyway I’ve been on summer break for approximately two weeks and figured that now was a good a time as any to jump back into blogging/tumbling!

Photo

Sat, 17 Mar 2012 23:09:34 -0400

brigitte: <3

Mon, 12 Mar 2012 21:02:42 -0400

brigitte:

<3

Photo

Mon, 12 Mar 2012 21:00:58 -0400

"To have come on all this new world of writing, with time to read in a city like Paris where there..."

Mon, 12 Mar 2012 20:58:49 -0400

“To have come on all this new world of writing, with time to read in a city like Paris where there was a way of living well and working, no matter how poor you were, was like having a great treasure given to you.”

- Ernest Hemingway (A Moveable Feast)

"To have come on all this new world of writing, with time to read in a city like Paris where there..."

Mon, 12 Mar 2012 20:58:34 -0400

Audio

Sun, 11 Mar 2012 09:44:38 -0400

Photo

Sun, 11 Mar 2012 09:42:30 -0400

Photo

Sun, 11 Mar 2012 09:32:39 -0400

Entrance to the Louvre, gosh how I miss Paris!

Sat, 10 Mar 2012 21:56:05 -0500

Entrance to the Louvre, gosh how I miss Paris!

"Comparison is the thief of joy."

Sat, 10 Mar 2012 21:53:57 -0500

“Comparison is the thief of joy.”

- Theodore Roosevelt (via jadorelavie)