I am one and the same, I am useful and strange.

There is not a break in life. I find myself saying yes to everything and wanting more. I find myself working hard and still wanting to create at the end of the day. I love this. I get this from my father.

He would work all day at the post office then come home, put on music, open a beer, and go out to his studio to paint.

Sometimes I want to thank my father for this work/creating ethic. Sometimes I want to curse him for it. It’s exhausting to want so much out of life, to expect so much of your own creative soul… and then also hit all the concerts and shows and events that inspire you. Exhausting. Beautiful.

Like when I called him today and he said that they had a great time out in Austin with old friends, but today he wanted to finally write down the poem that’s been in his head and maybe finally submit that comic to the paper.

It made me pick up the closest poetry book to me and read something I thought my dad would appreciate…

Roadside Flowers- Billy Collins

These are the kind you are supposed
to stop to look at, as I do this morning,
but just long enough
so as not to carry my non-stopping
around with me all day,
a big medicine ball of neglect and disregard.

But now I seem to be carrying
my not-stopping-long-enough ball
as I walk around
the circumference of myself
and up and down the angles of the day.

Roadside flowers,
when I get back to my room
I will make it all up to you.
I will lie on my stomach and write
in a notebook how lighthearted you were,
pink and white among the weeds,

wild phlox perhaps,
or at least a cousin of that family,
a pretty one who comes to visit
every summer for two weeks without her parents,
she who unpacks her things upstairs
while I am out on the lawn

throwing the ball as high as I can,
catching it almost
every time in my two outstretched hands.

And it helped assure me of the little gift I gave him. In all of the hustle and bustle of last month, I forgot that I had bought Neko Case tickets with a handful of friends. It felt like too much to make the show, but we made ourselves go. Damn, I’m so glad we did.

We sat in the balcony of the Wilma and drank local microbrews and were in total awe of Case. Everything sounded even better than the album. Our friend, a musician himself, would tap his foot along to the music and when there was an especially amazing lyric he would shake his head, smiling, and turn to me to repeat it…

You know you do, all of you, shame on you, all of you lie… Holy shit, that’s good.”

You never held it at the right angle… Damn.”

I can’t look at you straight on… So good.”

And I knew my dad should be there. I wanted him to be there with us.

I hope you like the album, Daddy. [we can’t stop listening to it at the Smeethens’ household.]

Thank you for this amazing curse of creativity and all of your support and love throughout it all.


I love you to pieces.

Happy Father’s Day!



the warmth of summer that you live in.

There will soon be a summer round up. [because this summer has just been so so good.]

And mayhaps a Dregs of Summer // Volume II.

For now, know that I’ve been thinking of you.

And the warmth of summer that you live in will not fade yet; I won’t let it.

Here is what I am just in love with right now:




This amazing artist collaborates with her four-year-old daughter. I kind of want to buy a print just to constantly remind myself that things definitely don’t end up like you thought they would… but they are still so beautiful.

Oh, can you even guess how excited I am for this:

I also cannot stop listening to this song:

Beyond that, I’m not sure what my life has consisted of. I started school again… eek, ugh, phew.

According to my Wheelhouse Missoula instagram, I’ve been indulging in all the best beverages:

Screen Shot 2013-09-04 at 11.40.02 PM

time for sleep, my loves.
wake in time for your own time.

it’s a beautiful junkshow.

Welp, I’m in full-blown grad school now.

I mean, I’m going to school part time and working full time. Which means this might not happen very often anymore… this here blahgging.

Or maybe it will. Maybe I’ll be procrastination [like right now] and blahgging instead of reading, designing, animating, recording, etc.

This has already been one of the more challenging things I’ve been a part of.

Daily I have to look at myself in the mirror and say, out loud, to myself…

– You’re a junkshow, but it’s a beautiful junkshow. You can do this. I promise.

I literally have to affirm myself out loud. And scribbled in my notes are tiny, tiny words… helping me get through…

 “don’t over-think it, don’t freak out.”

Everything’s new. It’s just a hard thing to try. It’s a hard thing to learn. Learning to try. Trying to learn. It’s intimidating as hell. Putting yourself out there. Being exhausted.

Being the older, sweaty, awkward girl in class. [i broke a drawer in front of the whole class already… and the whole time it was happening i was nervously saying, “ohp, yep, it’s really broken… oh, it’s so broken… oh, i broke it… i’m the worst.”]

There is a theme of breaking in life right now. Breaking down. Breaking things. Taking breaks. It’s so nice to have the breaks. The breaks to connect.

Like when my momma called the other day just to tell me a story…

A three year old boy was with his mom walking in the clinic. The boy went for the stairs, to start walking down and his mom said…

– No, honey we’re not gonna take the stairs. Here, I want you to come push the button on the elevator.

He looked at her, and around, with hugely peaked interest and asked…

– What alligator?

I love it. I loved it. Mom said that he didn’t sound scared or confused, just very interested on where the alligator was and which button on it he should push.

And then there are the breaks where I again find myself watching youtube videos of kids on drugs after surgery:

I couldn’t help but laugh/cry at, “Oh, I don’t know how I’m doing, I’m just crying and watching soccer, and mom won’t get me Panda…”

The breaks where I get to go sit in a hot springs with a good friend and talk to some older guys from Boston. There was a shorter, smiley one who lived in Montana now and then his taller, quieter friend who was visiting from Boston. They were both hilarious, with the thickest accents, both drinking rum and cokes at 11am… which I might have then taken part in.

The smiley one says…

– We used to get in major trouble. I used to steal things, lots of things… mainly books.

– Ha, really?

– Yeah, but then I cleaned up and went to college, which was hard cuz I had dropped outta high school, but they let me in cuz I played basketball.

Seems fair enough. He continued…

– Yeah, and then I had this psych professor who was wicked cool, such a great guy and I ended up telling him about the books. And he said, “Well, have you ever thought about taking them back? Giving them back to where you took them from?” I had never thought of that and he thought it was a good idea, so I went and returned every one.

– Wow, that’s awesome.

– Yeah, my psych professor offered to help and drive me around town to return them, but that was before I told him I had around 200 books.

– What?!

– Yep. And we drove around movin’ books all day… from place to place. But, well, I did keep one thing. You ever read Reader’s Digest? Remember the “Word Power”?

– Yeah.

– Well, I tore every single one out and kept ’em. I still have ’em, but I gave back the rest of the magazines.

I loved that. Stealing books. And then years later, giving them back. But keeping pages.

– Yeah, we boys cleaned up. He over there, now he’s the head of the Gang Unit at the Boston Police Department.

– Wait, really? [i look over to his friend and say] I’m pretty sure they make movies about you.

His friend excitedly chimes in…

– Oh, they do! He gets Mark Wahlberg and Matt Damon comin’ to him and his boys learning how they talk and how they work. All them boys from The Departed and all those movies.

– That’s amazing! You hung out with Marky Mark and Matt Damon?

– Yeah, I just showed ’em a few things. We ended up drinkin’ beer in a cop car.


It was such a refreshing encounter. So intriguing. A break.

And then it was back to the books. Back to the computer screen. Looking hard.

Listening to this:

Watching/Studying/Analyzing this:

[vimeo 24302498]

Crying at Rule 14: Don’t Give Up. 

Because before, I would never admit it to myself, especially not this early in the game, but it’s there. It’s the deepest, darkest whisper. It’s there. The “just give up” voice. And it hurts the most.

But I won’t.

I can do this. I promise.

felt so close to the me.

Snow has covered everything… making everything seem fresh, new.

Exhaustion exudes from me, but there is so much to share.

Here are some selects before my bed wins her game of seduction…

//love this cover.

//obsessed with these insides.


//felt so close to the me of another time.


//been spending a lot of time with lisbeth salander lately.

//hope this is a fraction as wonderful as the book.

//have a most lovely friday.


what was that world i was dreaming of?

Things have been foggy [from the day/nyquil], but oh, so beautiful.  It’s like my body told me to slow down, stop being so worried about tomorrow, next week, next month, forever from now.

Made me remember a lot of loveliness.

Then I heard this song and fell in love again…

and thought of my dearest friend, Lisa…

and how she showed me these: http://www.squareinchdesign.com/category/childrens-story-posters/

and how i think they are magnificent.

and how i want to give her this to hang on her Christmas tree so she thinks of me: rocky raccoon.

and she would give me this to hang on my Christmas tree so I think of her: a dear deer.

and the simplest thoughts brought me back to where I am, who I am.

[what was that world i was dreaming of?]

it’s all the sudden.

Funny how we get so used to our sunshiney days. The jorts [jean shorts… obvi], the over-sized sunglasses, the bikes abounding…

bike week logo by moi.

The nights of a light sweater.  More bikes.  Dinner at 9 because it’s finally getting dark.  Still in jorts.

And then a breeze comes, a chill and so different from yesterday, you want to hibernate.

The temperature drops to the forties and the town retracts like a sand crab to it’s shell at your flashlight presence.

It’s all the sudden cups of tea, slippers, Bon Iver, your favorite sweater and finding new favorite artists.