tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60394116010446485202024-03-14T04:20:08.394-04:00Through Cat Eyed FramesJenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02490308717684889912noreply@blogger.comBlogger589125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6039411601044648520.post-76529474351350053372015-10-20T18:56:00.001-04:002015-10-20T18:56:15.890-04:00 Florist <iframe frameborder="0" height="290" scrolling="no" src="http://www.npr.org/player/embed/448298959/448304127" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<br />
<br />
maybe i just wanna get married
<br />
maybe i just wanna fall asleep<br />
——————————————–
<br />
but at least i know that the world is spinning when we’re tangled in the bedsheets<br />
<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02490308717684889912noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6039411601044648520.post-73019424087700257442015-03-03T18:26:00.001-05:002015-09-26T18:12:03.722-04:00Do You Have an Accent?I grew up in a house of strong New York accents. My mom has an
especially thick accent. It was so much different than the standard
American English I heard on TV, or how my teachers and classmates sounded
in rural Pennsylvania. <br />
<br />
My grandmother, the modern
woman, spoke without an accent. She had a perfectly manicured way of
speaking. Clear and proper, especially when she used her phone voice.
Something in my childhood brain told me that I should sound like that. I
trained my ear to recognize accents and I trained my mouth to avoid
them.<br />
<br />
I became righteous and inwardly judged people
for speaking with accents. I would think "How sloppy and uneducated! Why
should I listen to your mispronounced words?!". Looking back, I see how
foolish I was.<br />
<br />
When people speak they are showing you
parts of themselves. They are sharing what they think or believe an
they are also showing you the places they've been. People show you a map
of their life when they speak. My neighbor, a military man, has been
stationed all over the US. When he speaks there are y'alls mixed in with
his Minnesotan accent.<br />
<br />
Accents are beautiful. Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02490308717684889912noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6039411601044648520.post-77842701633266863742015-02-13T08:15:00.002-05:002015-02-13T08:15:51.198-05:00Perception of Reality Each of our perceptions of reality is real. How we feel about these situations are just as real too. Your experiences, no matter how ultimately universal are different. <br />
<br />
Here's the good news: you are not locked into your perception of anything!<br />
<br />
There are two golden ways to stretch your perception. Both ways take practice, but are attainable.<br />
<br />
<b>Ask Questions Especially "WHY?!" </b><br />
Asking questions can help you get to the bottom of your situation. Start with easy questions, and get to the harder ones.<br />
<br />
A few weeks ago, I was driving through the streets of Philadelphia in my old burgundy Volvo. It was around 10am after a one inch snowfall from the night before. Flurries were in the forecast all day. As I was driving, I noticed the flurries made my world look like the inside of a snow globe. The sky was a brilliant blue. The sun was warm and friendly. My mind automatically thought it was snowing again. I saw white snowflakes floating though the sky and the weather station <i>said </i>there would be snow. In this moment, I thought "why". I asked myself "why did it look like it was snowing?".<b></b> That questions made me question my perception of reality. I look around and take notice of the fluffy snow drifting from the tops of buildings surrounding me. It wasn't snowing at all, the wind was just blowing snow to the ground. Although I was experiencing the same beautiful snowy moment, it was somehow different.<br />
<br />
<b>Language is Important</b><br />
<br />
We use words to describe our world. We describe our perception of reality to others and most importantly to ourselves. There is a dialogue going on in all of our minds, all of the time. These stories we tell ourselves can be a blessing, curse, or something in between the two. <b> </b> <br />
<br />
Language is an important when looking at your life from multiple angles. In the story above, I talked about it snowing when I saw snowflakes floating around. The more accurate language to describe it would have been to say "I saw snow". Seeing snow floating around to describe the event is truth in both perceptions of that situation, where as saying "it's snowing" is limiting.<br />
<br />
Valentine's Day is upon us. I have been noticing 'woe is me because I'm single' posts have been popping up on social media like dandelions on a suburban lawn. With a perspective change, the reality of this situation can be turned on it's head. There are a few ways to get out of this hole using language. Valentine's day is a day for love, right? What is stopping anyone from loving each other? Romantic love is commonly celebrated on on February 14th, but can't we redefine it? Love is love is love. Self love, love for friends, love for family, love for strangers. Ever get that warm and fuzzy feeling from doing something sweet for someone else? Ever love yourself so MUCH you are bliss-ed out? Redefine the things that upset you. Dissect what bothers you, find the basic meaning and apply it to your life. Setting you self up for failure will result in failure. Setting yourself up for something better won't give you perfection, but you'll have a better view of your life.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Slow down, listen to how you talk to yourself. Talk back, take over. xoxo <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02490308717684889912noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6039411601044648520.post-32474004747233090792014-12-12T13:12:00.002-05:002014-12-12T13:12:40.379-05:00In a City <iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/MOuqGmbQy-k" width="560"></iframe><br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02490308717684889912noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6039411601044648520.post-60650417047790113392014-11-21T11:25:00.000-05:002014-11-21T11:25:06.172-05:00Holiday QuiltThe holidays are quickly approaching! I can help you give the perfect gift! <br /><br />Let me make your loved one a custom quilt. Quilts are utilitarian heirlooms that will last a lifetime. All quilts are made with 100% cotton fabric, thread and batting... and of course LOVE! <br /><br />Message me today about pricing and sizing for your quilt!! <br />
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<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02490308717684889912noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6039411601044648520.post-27085734676518017632014-11-18T21:36:00.000-05:002014-11-18T21:37:30.445-05:00Where Do You See Yourself in Three Years? There are things that happen in a a day that serendipitously become tied together. Today two such things happened. I was asked when I see myself in three year. Later on, I hear the poem <i>Widening Circles</i> by Rainer Maria Rilke.<br />
<br />
At this point of transition in my life, I'm not quite sure where I'll be in three years. I'm not freaking out either. I am left asking myself: '<i>am I a falcon, a storm, or a great song?'.</i> I know that whatever task I'm called to, I'll invest my energies in that. I'm not sure what exactly is on the horizon, but I'm pretty excited for the endless possibilities! At this moment in my life I have created a clearing to fill with remarkable things. Stay tuned for updates!! In the meantime listen to the poem. <br />
<br />
<iframe frameborder="no" height="450" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/175491671&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&visual=true" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<br />
<blockquote>
<i>I live my life in widening circles<br />
that reach out across the world.<br />
I may not complete this last one<br />
but I give myself to it.</i><br />
<i>I circle around God, around the primordial tower.<br />
I've been circling for thousands of years<br />
and I still don't know: am I a falcon,<br />
a storm, or a great song?</i><br />
<i>Book of Hours, I 2</i></blockquote>
Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02490308717684889912noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6039411601044648520.post-57021990451488219982014-11-03T22:31:00.001-05:002014-11-03T22:31:38.138-05:00Letting Go & Still Being Alright My good friend, John, has brought his bike back to Philadelphia from his fiance's beach house in Cape May. We have been riding around the city on our way to Indian buffet's and Pho joints. John is an avid mountain biker and isn't afraid of getting scrapes and bruises. He bikes with no hands, even on the bumpiest streets. John was surprised I didn't dare to let go of the handlebars.<br />
<br />
I have been with my bike for almost five years. I know how she moves, and she knows how I move. We have been zipping around the city for a long time together. My bike is practically<br />
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an extension of my own body. Why don't I trust myself to ride with no hands?<br />
<br />
During a ride around the city, I slowed my pace behind John and I let go. I let my hands hover over the grips. Then I allowed my arms to hang by my side. For. Three. Blocks. <br />
<br />
I have worked in a place that didn't quite fit for a long while. There have been some ok years, some hellish years, and some meh years. This year was shaping up to be hellish. The work environment was toxic. I would come home crying. My shimmering soul was becoming dull. It took all of my energy to be the sunshine in my own classroom. I refused to show my students how upset I was because of the administration. So, I let go. Two weeks ago I turned in my letter of resignation. It's time for me to move on. I'm not sure what's next, but everything will be alright. <br />
<br />
Letting go can be scary. Scary or not, I have always had the strength within me to let go. Mustering up the courage to see the strength was the hard part. Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02490308717684889912noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6039411601044648520.post-46122169006052191632014-09-27T12:32:00.001-04:002014-09-27T12:33:12.738-04:00A Little Sleepy, A Little Dreamy<br />
I'm starting to think this is becoming a music-centric blog. Oh well. I have words coming. Stay tuned folks. Until then, sit back and enjoy indian summer temps with some summery tunes.<br />
XO<br />
<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/85092273&color=ff5500&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false" width="100%"></iframe>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02490308717684889912noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6039411601044648520.post-90651540133951499692014-04-11T18:21:00.001-04:002014-04-11T18:21:26.825-04:00Leaping Memories <iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="281" mozallowfullscreen="" src="//player.vimeo.com/video/83258629?title=0&byline=0&portrait=0&color=ffffff" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="500"></iframe> <a href="http://vimeo.com/83258629">Keta | The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/user7278324">John Koenig</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.<br />
<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02490308717684889912noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6039411601044648520.post-30826430808070391002014-03-10T18:57:00.001-04:002014-03-10T19:42:07.318-04:00"A life that's led is something gold"I love the podcast <a href="http://truestorytime.org/" target="_blank">True Story</a>. There is a song that is played during the credits. It is absoultely beautiful. Take a listen, <br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/WiBhQG_OAyI" width="560"></iframe><br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02490308717684889912noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6039411601044648520.post-81895999345437277212014-01-08T17:28:00.000-05:002014-01-08T17:28:50.008-05:00Wanna Follow Me on Insta? <style>.ig-b- { display: inline-block; }<br>.ig-b- img { visibility: hidden; }<br>.ig-b-:hover { background-position: 0 -60px; } .ig-b-:active { background-position: 0 -120px; }<br>.ig-b-48 { width: 48px; height: 48px; background: url(//badges.instagram.com/static/images/ig-badge-sprite-48.png) no-repeat 0 0; }<br>@media only screen and (-webkit-min-device-pixel-ratio: 2), only screen and (min--moz-device-pixel-ratio: 2), only screen and (-o-min-device-pixel-ratio: 2 / 1), only screen and (min-device-pixel-ratio: 2), only screen and (min-resolution: 192dpi), only screen and (min-resolution: 2dppx) {<br>.ig-b-48 { background-image: url(//badges.instagram.com/static/images/ig-badge-sprite-48@2x.png); background-size: 60px 178px; } }</style><br /><a class="ig-b- ig-b-48" href="http://instagram.com/jennipherever?ref=badge"><img alt="Instagram" src="//badges.instagram.com/static/images/ig-badge-48.png" /></a>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02490308717684889912noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6039411601044648520.post-15565559544036017292013-12-15T13:05:00.000-05:002013-12-15T13:05:22.937-05:00Joey Sweeney I especially like "Records and Coffee" and "Long Hair". <br />
<br />
<iframe seamless="" src="http://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=2099273355/size=small/bgcol=ffffff/linkcol=0687f5/transparent=true/" style="border: 0; height: 42px; width: 100%;"><a href="http://la-soc.bandcamp.com/album/long-hair">Long Hair by Joey Sweeney</a></iframe><br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02490308717684889912noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6039411601044648520.post-56840399331131153402013-11-24T12:19:00.002-05:002013-11-24T12:19:48.700-05:00::inspire::<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/QcvjoWOwnn4" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
"More than cleverness we need kindness and gentleness."Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02490308717684889912noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6039411601044648520.post-22516429668538191362013-11-16T12:59:00.003-05:002013-11-16T12:59:56.427-05:00Ya Hey <iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/xZMcbVAxDm8" width="420"></iframe><br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02490308717684889912noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6039411601044648520.post-4583237264099348652013-11-03T15:54:00.002-05:002013-11-03T15:55:03.958-05:00Swearin'<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/dmpOntxlbcY" width="420"></iframe><br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02490308717684889912noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6039411601044648520.post-40698323010001234612013-09-15T11:44:00.001-04:002013-09-15T11:44:21.095-04:00Sentimenal Essentialism<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We are creatures that are tethered to each other. There is something illogical that makes us sentimental. Why do we love that ratty toy from our childhood, or have a certain affinity for places or scents or even people?<br />
<br />
Loving that toy or scent or person doesn't make you a bad person. It's a natural for humans to assign meaning to inanimate objects, like our <a href="http://www.livescience.com/8737-grown-ups-security-blankets.html" target="_blank">childhood security toys</a>. This is called <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Essentialism" target="_blank">essentialism</a>. This is why a replica of your family heirlooms wouldn't hold the same meaning to you. Possessions hold experiences. Scent holds memories, and memories hold meaning. We are the confusing complicated bundle of human that ultimately holds the most sentimental qualities. Although I am stretching this concept, I whole-heartedly believe that living things carry these sentimental ties. <br />
<br />
When you are the person who is the receiver of those sentimental feelings it is strange and confusing. Imagine the feeling of your childhood toy, assuming you hold it to essentialism standards, when you take it out of it's hiding spot to dust it off. It must feel loved again, needed. It was there to comfort you, and it 'knows' you in the most basic way but loves you unconditionally regardless. This thing is something special to you; it taught so much.<br />
<br />
You knocked it around, took it everywhere with you, and no matter what you do, it can never be un-tattered. Now, you take care of the things you have. You carefully keep this new thing in a safe place because you realize that things that become broken can never really be put back together in the same way. You may love this new thing, but it is a different kind of love. Reckless love, unconditional messy, I-never-thought-I-could-really-ruin-this kind of love only happens once. Then you put that love in a box in the back of your closet, and only take it out when you're alone and that wave of sentimentalism captures you in her riptide. <br />
<br />
<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02490308717684889912noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6039411601044648520.post-9120722487684361682013-09-08T21:59:00.001-04:002013-09-08T21:59:04.827-04:0040 Days<a href="http://fortydaysofdating.com/" target="_blank">40 Days </a><br />
<br />
Who else is upset about how things ended?! Everyone? Yeah, that's what I thought. <br />
<br />
For months I have been following these people, and this happens?!? There is no hope in this dark, cold world. Sheesh! I should just adopt a cat already!<br />
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<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Hashtag CRANKY</span>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02490308717684889912noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6039411601044648520.post-43037162134826524122013-08-19T00:18:00.003-04:002013-08-19T00:18:59.633-04:00Season of the Shark<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/AqLwCSv6F7Q" width="560"></iframe><br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02490308717684889912noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6039411601044648520.post-8351232619748582122013-08-15T19:56:00.000-04:002013-08-15T19:57:17.836-04:00A Letter to Philadelphia <style>
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Dear Philadelphia, </div>
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It is our anniversary. 5 years ago I cascaded into your
orbit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I came here with someone
else, but it is you who held me close all the while. You are a city nestled
between two rivers that became my harbor. Philadelphia, my city of brotherly
love, you adopted me as a little sister. Your love has protected me and cradled
me, but has also given me tough love- just like a brother should.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love you right back. Philly, you give
me space to be myself. You don’t let me get away with BS and don’t mind giving
me the finger if I piss you off. You are honest, matter of fact. You don’t
clean up when company comes over. You let it all hang out. My darling city, you
have your blemishes too. Your bombed out houses, your heartbreaking murder
rate, your crumbling industries, your food deserts are areas that have not been
brushed aside. There are people in this city who love you as much as I do, and
these problems will be addressed. You are as nitty and gritty as they come, and
don’t apologize for it. Philly, your streets breed revolution and innovation. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From the constitution to the animal
cracker. American Bandstand to jawn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Your streets hold these memories which undulate between it’s residences.
Your buildings are decorated with art. Your empty lots are turned into urban
farms. This is a testament to the love bestowed upon you. Philadelphia, my
scrappy city, I have truly fallen under your spell. I hold you in a special
place in my heart. Here’s to us! </div>
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Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02490308717684889912noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6039411601044648520.post-55710968704411983412013-08-14T21:48:00.004-04:002013-08-14T21:48:48.541-04:00Write What You Know<br />
<iframe frameborder="0" height="338" scrolling="no" src="http://www.npr.org/templates/event/embeddedVideo.php?storyId=209598674&mediaId=209905232" width="600"></iframe><br />
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via: <a href="http://www.npr.org/blogs/allsongs/2013/08/06/209598674/first-watch-nora-jane-struthers-bike-ride?ft=1&f=15709577" target="_blank">All Songs Considered</a>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02490308717684889912noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6039411601044648520.post-69074758505890174562013-06-07T17:42:00.001-04:002013-07-18T23:16:01.934-04:00Farm box<div style="font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em; margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/throughcateyedframes/8972563403/" title="Farm box"><img alt="Farm box by ThroughCatEyedFrames" height="320" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8406/8972563403_3693a33723.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<span style="margin: 0;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/throughcateyedframes/8972563403/">Farm box</a>, a photo by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/throughcateyedframes/">ThroughCatEyedFrames</a> on Flickr.</span></div>
Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02490308717684889912noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6039411601044648520.post-39646294110024950432013-05-07T17:53:00.000-04:002013-05-07T17:53:45.513-04:00How To (...) and Not Forget AnythingHow to I work as a full time high school teacher, part-time airbrush face-painter, part-time kindergarten art teacher, and grad student and not forget anything? <br />
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<a href="http://www.6wunderkinder.com/wunderlist" target="_blank">Wunderlist</a> and ical<br />
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That's pretty much it-down to the minute. Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02490308717684889912noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6039411601044648520.post-46201481592226701602013-04-05T19:33:00.000-04:002013-04-05T19:33:02.677-04:00Do You Want Your Heart Broken by a Song?If yes, listen to this:<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/_4b54372-zA" width="420"></iframe> Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02490308717684889912noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6039411601044648520.post-31645942177270146902013-03-09T22:01:00.002-05:002013-03-09T22:41:50.991-05:00What's in Your Farm Box?<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/throughcateyedframes/8542648832/" title="This week's box by ThroughCatEyedFrames, on Flickr"><img alt="This week's box" height="240" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8369/8542648832_16fe9d1276_m.jpg" width="240" /></a>
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3 fuji apples, 5 ears of yellow corn, eggs (an add on), boston lettuce, grape tomatoes, 2 avocado, 1 grapefruit, 2 artichokes, collard greens, local feta (an add on), broccoli rabe, 4 limes, green onions<br />
<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02490308717684889912noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6039411601044648520.post-90109252304533265062013-02-28T18:53:00.002-05:002013-02-28T18:53:58.035-05:00What's in Your Farm Box? I don't write as much as I have in the past although, I have wanted to write more frequently. Every week I buy a box of fruits and veggies for $15. It's similar to a farm share in that the contents are a surprise. Here's what I got this week: <br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/throughcateyedframes/8516224299/" title="Farm to families box this week by ThroughCatEyedFrames, on Flickr"><img alt="Farm to families box this week" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8368/8516224299_13678119b6_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a><br />
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butternut squash, mushrooms, escarole, 3 tangelos, swiss chard, 3 gala apples, eggplant, 3 kiwis, 3 bulb onions, 2 anjou pears, and 1lb green beansJenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02490308717684889912noreply@blogger.com0