Archive for April, 2009|Monthly archive page


In Uncategorized on 10 April, 2009 at 4:41 pm

April is National Poetry Month!!! Definitely something close to my heart. Though I’ve stepped away from a career in it, I will never – NEVER – regret pursuing poetry all throughout college.  As a result, I’ve found it’s  not just the practice of writing – it’s a way of looking at the world that I’m forever grateful to have spent the time honing.

enjoy my favorite, so simple and complex, the one that had me hooked for good, and the latest piece I’ve written.


A row of shelves hides a wall and a door here. They are all blue,…  Read More
just blue.

I wonder if you and I would ever paint a wall together, and a door.
Take one color and paint it all, even the hinges and the knob.

And then each other, clothes and all.
Just to put some color on history, not to change it, but to look

at it together and remember what we did to see
over what we cannot see.

-Peter Streckfus


‘This Is Just To Say’

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

-William Carlos Williams


'Interlude #5'

Maybe if I rise
I'll see the dreams fading
to smoke and mirrors,
and maybe your mirage
won't call this void home,
will let me sleep.

Because I watch the sun crest
over the steepest hill
wait for my strength, 
my chance 
to align.

For now I watch your impression,
our wrinkled fabric.
Watch the passing haze,
shadows buoyant in morning,
yesterday's truth sloping to periphery.


In lighter news

In Uncategorized on 10 April, 2009 at 9:11 am

Welcome.  It’s good to be back in the blogosphere, and while this place will be home to the occasional piece of food writing, I’ll be updating, ranting, reflecting, waxing poetic, patting myself on the back, and not biting my tongue.

Make yourself comfortable and enjoy.


In Personal on 10 April, 2009 at 8:22 am

I celebrate.

I, admittedly, am not a heavily religious person.  I weigh my own spirituality equally with and against the idea that those two concepts – religion and spirituality – do not necessarily go hand in hand.  On this particular Easter, however, I feel compelled to speak up, if only for my own carthasis.

Under everyday circumstances, I make a point of not openly discussing the role depression has played in my life.  It is a rather grim picture to paint, and there is an ever-present stigma attached to it.  Few people understand it, and most simply don’t want to.  I can’t say I blame them.

I can say with certainty that I handed over the last 2 years of my life to depression.  For the most part, the memories that I do have of those two years are a blur, save for the mornings I was able to function on.  On those mornings which I remember, the feeling of truly not recognizing my own image in the mirror is forever seared into me.  And I’d like to believe that the reason I can not forget that feeling is because somebody, or something greater than myself, insisted all along that I would not be forgotten.

The person who I didn’t recognize, every morning, threw her arms up in absolute despair, angry with God.  How could You leave me out in this barren, eternal Cold. I would self-righteously adopt the attitude on those days that nobody was going to heal Sarah but Sarah, and the loneliness it fostered bled from one day into the next.

I do want to stop and take a moment to point out that though it felt dehabilitating, the depression I suffered could have been worse.  I made it to and through an extremely fast-paced, rigorous course in culinary school, an environment that is quite chaotic and psychologically perverse in and of itself.  If nothing else, I developed a thick skin the hard way and learned that when you feel as if you truly have nothing left to lose, you have everything to gain.

So I reached out.  I’d discovered that life could be worth loving again, by immersing myself in something I loved, no matter how tough it may have been.  Confidantes were developed, walls came down, and I was determined to soak in the good days as my reserves.  And with each good day that came along, I began to feel…..lifted. A continual out-of-body moment.  On the not-so-good days, I found myself seeking out solace in the fluidity of life and the world around me rather than my self-loathing.

Just after New Years’, I’d rented Religulous, Bill Maher’s documentary on organized religion and the more questionable tenets of faith that believers buy into.  I’m sure Maher was successful in appealing to the more agnostic atheist set, particularly around my age.  But the nervy, academic stance he took throughout the film only served to affirm my core beliefs: His pointed heartlessness spoke measures.  While I consider myself a smidgen universalist and, in turn, would never assail another person’s spirituality;  my path to God is firmly centered in Christ.  Because even when all I saw was darkness, there would be enough light to keep me going.  In the most comical of settings – JesusLand – Maher confronted a worker about the monotheistic aspect of the Christian faith versus the holy trinity. The answer – that the lord can take on different forms just as water – was the profound truth I had been trying to locate amongst my frustration with God lo those months before.  I didn’t have to grasp at straws – He was waiting.

The next morning, I woke up feeling unbelievably restored, but with an added air of confidence I couldn’t quite place.  Weeks later in a conversation about looking back on life, a confidante remarked, “For what it’s worth, these last 2 years will turn out to be the most valuable years of your life, because you learned how to survive, even when you wanted most to give up on yourself.”  That’s it.

I replied, “And I call that Grace.”