I've been in DC for three days now. All I can really say is oh. My. God.
I feel like I could cry, I am so happy. I'm learning so much each day--my head is buzzing after nine hours in the beautiful building that is the Kennedy Center.
Gary Garrison, the man with many famous, fabulous, and intelligent hats said it best on day one: "Wake the fuck up and be the artist that you know you want to be. There is no time. You must be it now."
The people here are so accepting, sweet, cool, unique, and just...so different from the people I know at home. I feel like I've known them for my whole life. We have this thing in common, this need to write everything down and turn the everyday into something powerful. I have never felt so inspired.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
June Jollies
JUNE.
In seven days, it will be precisely one month since I graduated. This is both delightful and vomit-a-trocious.
For Memorial Day weekend, one of my best friends (Hilary/Hil/YEE/Agnes) invited me to come take her sweet younger sister Karla to Camp Seafarer, and then hop a ferry to Beaufort and drive to Atlantic Beach. Before she even finished her sentence, I was packed.
I love the ocean. As in "love" cannot even encompass how much I adore the beach. I always feel the greatest sense of peace when I'm there, as if time just stops. And I've always sworn up and down that the day I have enough money, I will buy a place on the coast. And just as I expected, Beaufort was charming and just lovely. We ate lunch at Beaufort Grocery (sadly we had a really prissy waiter man named James, so I pretended to be a food critic and made him uneasy), visited the Sanitary Restaurant where I purchased a burnt orange shirt, and fiiinally drove to the beach. Atlantic Beach let me relax and check out for a couple of hours. It was absolutely gorgeous out...not a cloud in the sky, warm water, and a bright, tan-inducing sun. And hanging out with Hilary is always an adventure and conversation never runs dry. I am just plain old lucky.
One of my other sweet, sweet bests, Espanol teacher extraordinaire, Kellie, and another friend, Mandi were tweeting the other night and I caught a couple of their tweets. Kellie had the brilliant idea to turn June into "No Junk June" and clean house, mind, and body. Frankly, I am in love with said idea. While I am about to have an adventure with MK Cranny-Cran to Goodwill to get rid of a ton of clothing (Goodwill's about to hit the motherload...), it got me thinking. One of my biggest downfalls will be sweets. I mean, I love fruit. I will eat seriously any vegetable. But when it comes to chocolate, toffee, anything sweet, really, I cave. Can't help it. Summers have always been marked by a once-every-other-day trip to Henry's Gelato or late-night Goodberry's or Whole Foods to retrieve my ginger molasses cookie (always take the middle one in the glass case, they're the softest). Fine, Confessional Moment: I actually do have a royal title. I am Queen of Stress Eating. Proof: I sent my resume to a school in Los Angeles and promptly had cupcakes with Sheryl after. My grandmother asked why I didn't like the idea of nursing school (answer: I hate blood and bodily functions and will probably drop a bedpan on a patient), and I immediately went to Skinny Dip/broke out into hives. See? ISSUES. Why not make it a No Junk Food June? So thus begins my month of...substitution, so to speak. And, well, I just graduated and am still job hunting like a fiend, so why not toy with my BMI percentage? If anything, my Weight Watchers calendar will look like a freaking dream, points and all.
And so, June, I welcome you while I fight the good unemployment fight, continue taking hip hop classes, make an attempt to not bite my nails, and choose healthy over heart-attack-inducing items.
(And no, I am not counting coffee as junk food. I'm not that intense. And plus, we all know I would probably throw myself off of a bridge after ten minutes if this happened)
Thursday, May 26, 2011
See, what had HAPPENED, was....
...I graduated eighteen days ago. As in, I walked across the stage, shook Dr. Hartford's hand, didn't trip, knocked over Peggy's hat, and then left Dorton Arena no longer a student of my beloved alma mater (I kind of hated typing that), and a newly motivated, unemployed, coral-dress-with-pockets citizen of the world. So, for the past two weeks and four days, this has been my routine:
8:45 a.m.: Wake up to my alarm and turn it off.
9:45 a.m.: Wake up to my alarm and turn it off.
10:45 a.m.: See the time, and literally roll out of bed because now it's just getting pathetic.
11:45 a.m.-1:00 p.m.: Job-search and start screaming at one point because my ring is pointed outward.
1:30 p.m-maybe 3:00 p.m..: Schelp my stuff from my apartment to either my dad's house in Cary or my mom's house in Garner. Really, whichever house has the best food/coffee supplies at the moment.
4:00 p.m.-5:30 p.m.: Go to the gym/maybe go walking with Hilary
6:30 p.m.: Attempt to socialize with Thathi, but quickly get aggravated when she asks for the millionth time why I am not enrolling in nursing school and why I am leaving for Los Angeles.
7:00 p.m.: Dinner. Usually a toss-up between hanging out with the fam or driving insanely fast to Raleigh where my friends are.
10:00 p.m.: A text from Dad, merely starting with "Hi," but meaning, "WhereareyouwhatareyoudoingwhoareyouwithIamafraidyouaredoingrebelliousthings." All said in a jumble.
11:00 p.m.-2:00 a.m.: Job searching, YouTube research, Facebook stalking, and contemplating my life on a too-small twin bed in my closet-sized room with a broken AC.
Hilary and I were so enthusiastic when school was about to end: "Our post grad lives are going to be THE BEST!" And they are. It's just, when it all comes down to it, we get down to one of my massive flaws: I lack patience. I see myself were I want to be, but frankly, it's exhausting looking up apartments, sending out resumes, panicking over my completely uprooting myself and frolicking in a land where everyone's an actor. I was completely validated when my MCG's voted me, "Most Likely to be the Next Tina Fey." I was insanely happy with that title, but really, it's a loooooong ways off. And I'm starting to become slightly (okay, well, DEEPLY) petrified of what lies ahead/stricken by the thought of being homeless on the coast of California. What if nothing happens at all? THEN what? Go back to the basics, I suppose. But what exactly were my basics?
I overanalyze a lot, in case you couldn't tell.
And then I remember the exciting things that are getting me through: I got into the Kennedy Center Playwriting Intensive Program, so I head up there in July, and will probably vomit with all of the amazing things I learn/fantastic people I meet. And I remember that most, if not all of the grad parties I've attended are full of people who are just like me. The ones who have gone to "Top Notch" schools like Duke, NYU, Stanford, etc. are done and home and are jobless just like everyone else. It's humbling. The playing field's equal, and (hopefully) everyone's ego is slightly deflated. For some reason it's comforting.
I see the playing field.
I just need to make the first big step.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Denial...not just a river.
I've been putting off this blog post for awhile. By not writing about IT, buying black shoes for IT, buying a brightly colored dress for IT, writing a Class Day speech before IT the next day, and not thinking about decorating my cap for IT, I'd say I have been living my life blissfully in denial, smiling widely when someone dare utters the "G" word, only to feel my eyes grow hot and start to tear.
But alas, denial can only take you so far.
IT...ugh, fine, GRADUATION is this weekend. The four years I've spent at my second home, sweet Meredith College, are coming to a close. It's a frightening, wonderful, exhilarating, and honestly, upsetting feeling, a jumble of emotions that I cannot quite track. I feel like this last week has been so busy, not with anything academic related, but just...stuff. I've planned a theatre banquet, written another skit, folded one pile (out of ten) of laundry, gone on a safari for overdue library books, Web MD'd possible foot ailments...you get the idea. I haven't had time to just...be in my college, and take in the little things that have always made MC that much more special. I passed by Joyner this afternoon and was suddenly struck with the thought that I walked those halls as a student for the last time this past Sunday. I'm getting my Oddball wig ready for tomorrow, and I can feel that lump returning to my throat again, and that painful pang in stomach gets tighter.
Thankfully, tonight I saw three of my very best friends, all Meredith alums, and all so special to me in so many ways. Kasey, blunt one that she is, said, "It sucks for awhile. You'll always miss it...but it gets better each day." Kellie merely asked, "What do you need Kiki? What do you need right now?" Meghan just scratched my back, which just about put me to sleep. And I can bet you when I see Amy tomorrow, she'll probably do what she always does, and say wise words to me that are true and will make me cry.
The one thing that all three reiterated was to enjoy each moment and to not be sad. Because, in retrospect, it really is going to be a phenomenal weekend. Alright. Deep breath...and....GO.
But alas, denial can only take you so far.
IT...ugh, fine, GRADUATION is this weekend. The four years I've spent at my second home, sweet Meredith College, are coming to a close. It's a frightening, wonderful, exhilarating, and honestly, upsetting feeling, a jumble of emotions that I cannot quite track. I feel like this last week has been so busy, not with anything academic related, but just...stuff. I've planned a theatre banquet, written another skit, folded one pile (out of ten) of laundry, gone on a safari for overdue library books, Web MD'd possible foot ailments...you get the idea. I haven't had time to just...be in my college, and take in the little things that have always made MC that much more special. I passed by Joyner this afternoon and was suddenly struck with the thought that I walked those halls as a student for the last time this past Sunday. I'm getting my Oddball wig ready for tomorrow, and I can feel that lump returning to my throat again, and that painful pang in stomach gets tighter.
Thankfully, tonight I saw three of my very best friends, all Meredith alums, and all so special to me in so many ways. Kasey, blunt one that she is, said, "It sucks for awhile. You'll always miss it...but it gets better each day." Kellie merely asked, "What do you need Kiki? What do you need right now?" Meghan just scratched my back, which just about put me to sleep. And I can bet you when I see Amy tomorrow, she'll probably do what she always does, and say wise words to me that are true and will make me cry.
The one thing that all three reiterated was to enjoy each moment and to not be sad. Because, in retrospect, it really is going to be a phenomenal weekend. Alright. Deep breath...and....GO.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
And it's April.
"April," Amy Damone declared. "Is the most important month for a Meredith girl. No one else understands but those who are there."
And oh, how right she is. This month has been one of the most stressful (Convocations! Cap and gown purchases! Chord ordering! Wow, these are a lot of "C" things...), sad (a lot of "last's" are coming up for the seniors), and hectic (all I'm saying is who assigns a fifteen page paper in seminar? In the last month? When you're already ready to collapse? I ask you again, readers, WHO DOES THAT?!). But, in the midst of all of the craziness, I am finding little gems:
1) I'm finding that my parentals are pretty freaking great. They're starting to say things like, "When you move to L.A," and "When we find you, Syd, and Kathleen an apartment..." I think they're starting to realize that Kiki Subrawoman has a plan, a vision, a need for adventure, and a thirst to make it happen. I've been talking to my mom a lot more, and I'm finding that we actually have a lot in common in terms of how her mindset was in college. And I'm beginning to feel a lot more reassured.
2) It's okay to let people go sometimes. It sucks, that's for damn sure. But sometimes I look at how truly amazing my real friends are versus the ones who, well, just haven't been around. I see how different they are. This April has shown me that my fabulous friends really outdo themselves: from the e-mails, calls, texts, reassurances, and the constant, "Oh my God, you're going to be excellent in whatever you do!" it seriously makes me teary. I'm so grateful. Then I look at the ones who are the exact opposite. And then I realize that instead of focusing on the ones that aren't so great, I have the right to focus on the ones that are. And, as the always-wise Amy tells me, "You deserve great friends. Go getchu some."
3) Reconnecting with old friends is the best feeling in the world. I think my last semester has been fifty times better because of it.
4) It's perfectly okay to have an addiction to coffee, to the point where you have a myriad of mugs stashed in your car. I mean, really. I'm allowed a vice. I don't smoke. I work out (er...not as regularly right now, but I'm a senior, so whatever). I smile at cute children when walking by them. I deserve an addiction.
5) The best is yet to come. Cliche? Totally. The realization that this is absolutely true? Profound.
6) It's okay to use vindictiveness as motivation. There's always going to be people who doubt you. What I'm finding is that I'm going to use that to set my working soul on fire and prove them wrong. And then laugh and do cartwheels in my bright blue and yellow kitchen when I am successful.
7) I will find the perfect graduation dress. :)
Alright, April. Let's do this...
And oh, how right she is. This month has been one of the most stressful (Convocations! Cap and gown purchases! Chord ordering! Wow, these are a lot of "C" things...), sad (a lot of "last's" are coming up for the seniors), and hectic (all I'm saying is who assigns a fifteen page paper in seminar? In the last month? When you're already ready to collapse? I ask you again, readers, WHO DOES THAT?!). But, in the midst of all of the craziness, I am finding little gems:
1) I'm finding that my parentals are pretty freaking great. They're starting to say things like, "When you move to L.A," and "When we find you, Syd, and Kathleen an apartment..." I think they're starting to realize that Kiki Subrawoman has a plan, a vision, a need for adventure, and a thirst to make it happen. I've been talking to my mom a lot more, and I'm finding that we actually have a lot in common in terms of how her mindset was in college. And I'm beginning to feel a lot more reassured.
2) It's okay to let people go sometimes. It sucks, that's for damn sure. But sometimes I look at how truly amazing my real friends are versus the ones who, well, just haven't been around. I see how different they are. This April has shown me that my fabulous friends really outdo themselves: from the e-mails, calls, texts, reassurances, and the constant, "Oh my God, you're going to be excellent in whatever you do!" it seriously makes me teary. I'm so grateful. Then I look at the ones who are the exact opposite. And then I realize that instead of focusing on the ones that aren't so great, I have the right to focus on the ones that are. And, as the always-wise Amy tells me, "You deserve great friends. Go getchu some."
3) Reconnecting with old friends is the best feeling in the world. I think my last semester has been fifty times better because of it.
4) It's perfectly okay to have an addiction to coffee, to the point where you have a myriad of mugs stashed in your car. I mean, really. I'm allowed a vice. I don't smoke. I work out (er...not as regularly right now, but I'm a senior, so whatever). I smile at cute children when walking by them. I deserve an addiction.
5) The best is yet to come. Cliche? Totally. The realization that this is absolutely true? Profound.
6) It's okay to use vindictiveness as motivation. There's always going to be people who doubt you. What I'm finding is that I'm going to use that to set my working soul on fire and prove them wrong. And then laugh and do cartwheels in my bright blue and yellow kitchen when I am successful.
7) I will find the perfect graduation dress. :)
Alright, April. Let's do this...
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Alright, Internet, let's see whatcha got...
Confession: I am awful at creating online dating profiles. Why am I even on online dating websites? As lame as this sounds, after hearing my friends talk about it and how "it really is the New-Age form of finding one's soulmate," I decided to give it a shot. But honestly, I'm h-o-r-r-i-b-l-e at creating a profile because I'm not good at putting myself "out there." I have friends who don't even bat an eyelash as they fill out an OkCupid account or an "E-Harmony's Harmonious Relationship" questionnaire. I, however, have visions of serial assholes and Craigslist Killers dancing in my head as I type out my "About Me" summary. But this time, after talking it out with one of my best friends, I figured, why not? I'm definitely moving to California at the end of the summer and I'm in the throes of Senioritis (an epidemic that has struck the class of 2011), so instead of creating graduation announcements, I decided to fill out one of these said relationship websites. And all I have to say is oh. My. God. Maybe I won't "find my true match" or maybe Cupid will decide to evade this twenty-two year old biddy, but after perusing through quite a few profiles of "Striking eligible bachelors," I have realized that there needs to be guidelines for guys when creating a profile.
1) Thou shalt pick a decent username-I have stumbled upon profiles with the most ludicrous usernames. That one name can be an instant turn on or in my case, off. Because let me just say that I will probably not talk to you if your name is FluffyParrotMan39 or ViktoriousThugLyfe or even GitRDunBoi20435. This makes me think that you are either an animal hoarder with a fetish for feathers, missing a few teeth, or a really bad speller (and let me tell you that is an extreme turnoff).
2) Thou shalt proofread your profile-Maybe you meant to say, "If someone was in a burning building, I would run in and rescue them." Maybe you meant to say, "I would love to meet over a cup of coffee." But because of your slippery fingers or sheer idiocy, you have written, "If someone was in a burning building, I would run in with them," and "I would love to meet over a cum of coffee." Um. Bye.
3) Thou shalt not be an asshole with pictures-Okay, seriously? How many pictures of you with a red solo cup can you put up? And why, why, why would you put up pictures of you taking body shots off of a tranny hot mess of a girl? Hi. I do have some self-respect. A guy who messaged me (whose username was ironically YesIamBig) had his profile picture be a shot of him, sweaty and beer-laden with a bunch of Hooters girls and a puppy in his arms. I am not joking. Nor was I impressed.
4) Thou shalt NOT be an asshole in your profile-Example: I saw a profile in which the guy (who had more facial hair than a cult leader) had at the beginning: DISCLAIMOR: IF YOU ARE FAT, DO NOT TALK TO ME. IF YOU ARE BIGER THAN A MOUND OF DIRT, DO NOT TALK TO ME. I almost flipped a shit. First of all, remember rule two? SPELLCHECK, you idiot. And two, SERIOUSLY? Seriously. That's all I can really say to that. Another thing that's really aggravating, as least to me, is when I read profiles that start like this: "Ladies deserve men that are classy and fabulous. I am both of those things." and "I am one of the nicest guys you will ever meet in your life." Ohhhh, and let's not forget: "I'm very respectful of girls, and am a fan of casual sex." It makes me shake my head. And laugh. And then want to cry because this is the pool of guys I have to choose from? I'd rather die lonely surrounded by spinach and artichoke dip and a season of Glee. Sheesh.
5) Thou shalt not be pushy-No. I will not go over to your house for the first date. I don't know if you're Jack the Ripper in disguise or if you have a Confederate flag waving from your roof. I will meet you in public, preferably over coffee or Barnes and Nobles, some place where throngs of people can see us and potentially pull the, "I'll-Pretend-I-Know-You-But-I-Really-Don't-But-You-Need-To-Be-Rescued-From-This-Creeper" move.
I bet you there's more guidelines that'll pop up as this experiment goes on. But at least for now, I can happily say that this has been quite a fun form of entertainment. And on that note...onward!
1) Thou shalt pick a decent username-I have stumbled upon profiles with the most ludicrous usernames. That one name can be an instant turn on or in my case, off. Because let me just say that I will probably not talk to you if your name is FluffyParrotMan39 or ViktoriousThugLyfe or even GitRDunBoi20435. This makes me think that you are either an animal hoarder with a fetish for feathers, missing a few teeth, or a really bad speller (and let me tell you that is an extreme turnoff).
2) Thou shalt proofread your profile-Maybe you meant to say, "If someone was in a burning building, I would run in and rescue them." Maybe you meant to say, "I would love to meet over a cup of coffee." But because of your slippery fingers or sheer idiocy, you have written, "If someone was in a burning building, I would run in with them," and "I would love to meet over a cum of coffee." Um. Bye.
3) Thou shalt not be an asshole with pictures-Okay, seriously? How many pictures of you with a red solo cup can you put up? And why, why, why would you put up pictures of you taking body shots off of a tranny hot mess of a girl? Hi. I do have some self-respect. A guy who messaged me (whose username was ironically YesIamBig) had his profile picture be a shot of him, sweaty and beer-laden with a bunch of Hooters girls and a puppy in his arms. I am not joking. Nor was I impressed.
4) Thou shalt NOT be an asshole in your profile-Example: I saw a profile in which the guy (who had more facial hair than a cult leader) had at the beginning: DISCLAIMOR: IF YOU ARE FAT, DO NOT TALK TO ME. IF YOU ARE BIGER THAN A MOUND OF DIRT, DO NOT TALK TO ME. I almost flipped a shit. First of all, remember rule two? SPELLCHECK, you idiot. And two, SERIOUSLY? Seriously. That's all I can really say to that. Another thing that's really aggravating, as least to me, is when I read profiles that start like this: "Ladies deserve men that are classy and fabulous. I am both of those things." and "I am one of the nicest guys you will ever meet in your life." Ohhhh, and let's not forget: "I'm very respectful of girls, and am a fan of casual sex." It makes me shake my head. And laugh. And then want to cry because this is the pool of guys I have to choose from? I'd rather die lonely surrounded by spinach and artichoke dip and a season of Glee. Sheesh.
5) Thou shalt not be pushy-No. I will not go over to your house for the first date. I don't know if you're Jack the Ripper in disguise or if you have a Confederate flag waving from your roof. I will meet you in public, preferably over coffee or Barnes and Nobles, some place where throngs of people can see us and potentially pull the, "I'll-Pretend-I-Know-You-But-I-Really-Don't-But-You-Need-To-Be-Rescued-From-This-Creeper" move.
I bet you there's more guidelines that'll pop up as this experiment goes on. But at least for now, I can happily say that this has been quite a fun form of entertainment. And on that note...onward!
Thursday, February 10, 2011
A little bit o' hope.
Thanksies need to be made to my beautiful friend, Sam Cib. Here she is, fellow blogettes:
Sam not only made my day today by telling me that The Perks of Being a Wallflower is being made into a movie, but last week, thanks to Facebook creeping, she accidentally introduced me to a blog that has been copied, bookmarked, and tabbed on my crumbling MC laptop, right next to my Y schedule: http://thefrenemy.tumblr.com/. Seriously. Best. Blog. Ever. I wish I could write as well as this person does. Today this blogger basically took my thoughts about e-books and Nooks and created the most eloquent post ever. My favorite passages:
"There is nothing, nothing like a book that is yours. The tattered and wrinkled dog, the pages you have scanned over and over, rubbed your fingers down the spine as real as human flesh. The first time you read a book that is yours is like finding a soulmate. It could be a sentence, three sentences, a paragraph before you know. You are hooked. You hug the book. You are elated at finding the kind of words that speak to all the parts of your bones and organs. You take it with you to all the apartments you’ll ever have, packing it safely in the boxes you write BOOKS on. You underline the BOOKS part in the box it is in so you know to be extra careful with it. You go to certain pages when you are sad. 97 will make you cry. 313 will make you laugh. 14 contains the life mantra you live by. You look at the corner crease in the upper right back cove- that came when you let your best friend borrow it. The ripped binding. The underlined sentences. The oil stain in the third chapter. It is as weathered and loved as your very first blanket. The reminder of somebody you loved, you take it back to the time in your life you were in Pennsylvania whipping your hand out the car window. This book is as memory inducing as a favorite song. For me, this book is The Picture of Dorian Gray. For you, it is whatever made you love the written word. Pull it out when you want to visit beloved friends."
"With real books, there are moments in a a doctor’s office. You watch a girl, maybe fifteen, pull out the Great Gatsby. You remember the moment you fell for it during the bare legged swing and lemonade sip of your sophomore summer. That month you soaked up the pain of love with the kind of awe and understanding that you will never be as brilliant as Fitzgerald. Or Vonnegut. You remember reading sentences from the great and the dead that throw you against a wall or rip your heart out, so you touch the pages and run your fingers down the ink in substitute. There are moments on the subway. A cute, tousled hair kind of guy pulls out a book you have never read. You watch his face, the movements of his mouth as he soaks it up and for a moment you love him. You take out your book, ruffle through your purse, find that paperback and let somebody fall in love with you as you struggle to read with one hand gripped on the crowded railing."
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.
This week has been an emotional one. One of the girls in the theatre department just lot her mom. I think as you go through college and get involved with your major, the other people who are with you become family, and even if you don't hang out with them daily, there is the sense of fierce protectiveness and love. So when one loses someone or something, it affects everyone. I'm not going to lie, it made me feel a lot of things: incredibly sad, the shock that while I may be stressing about little things, there are much bigger things happening, and the sudden need to call my own mom, apologize for our fight last week, tell her that I love her a lot, and take her off of my "Block" list from Facebook (yes, I took her off of Facebook. What can I say, I was mad...). And I guess I needed to read something, see something that would maybe restore a little sparkle, a little hope in my world. And well, for me, that other blog post did just that.
So, Sam? Thanks, lady.
Sam not only made my day today by telling me that The Perks of Being a Wallflower is being made into a movie, but last week, thanks to Facebook creeping, she accidentally introduced me to a blog that has been copied, bookmarked, and tabbed on my crumbling MC laptop, right next to my Y schedule: http://thefrenemy.tumblr.com/. Seriously. Best. Blog. Ever. I wish I could write as well as this person does. Today this blogger basically took my thoughts about e-books and Nooks and created the most eloquent post ever. My favorite passages:
"There is nothing, nothing like a book that is yours. The tattered and wrinkled dog, the pages you have scanned over and over, rubbed your fingers down the spine as real as human flesh. The first time you read a book that is yours is like finding a soulmate. It could be a sentence, three sentences, a paragraph before you know. You are hooked. You hug the book. You are elated at finding the kind of words that speak to all the parts of your bones and organs. You take it with you to all the apartments you’ll ever have, packing it safely in the boxes you write BOOKS on. You underline the BOOKS part in the box it is in so you know to be extra careful with it. You go to certain pages when you are sad. 97 will make you cry. 313 will make you laugh. 14 contains the life mantra you live by. You look at the corner crease in the upper right back cove- that came when you let your best friend borrow it. The ripped binding. The underlined sentences. The oil stain in the third chapter. It is as weathered and loved as your very first blanket. The reminder of somebody you loved, you take it back to the time in your life you were in Pennsylvania whipping your hand out the car window. This book is as memory inducing as a favorite song. For me, this book is The Picture of Dorian Gray. For you, it is whatever made you love the written word. Pull it out when you want to visit beloved friends."
"With real books, there are moments in a a doctor’s office. You watch a girl, maybe fifteen, pull out the Great Gatsby. You remember the moment you fell for it during the bare legged swing and lemonade sip of your sophomore summer. That month you soaked up the pain of love with the kind of awe and understanding that you will never be as brilliant as Fitzgerald. Or Vonnegut. You remember reading sentences from the great and the dead that throw you against a wall or rip your heart out, so you touch the pages and run your fingers down the ink in substitute. There are moments on the subway. A cute, tousled hair kind of guy pulls out a book you have never read. You watch his face, the movements of his mouth as he soaks it up and for a moment you love him. You take out your book, ruffle through your purse, find that paperback and let somebody fall in love with you as you struggle to read with one hand gripped on the crowded railing."
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.
This week has been an emotional one. One of the girls in the theatre department just lot her mom. I think as you go through college and get involved with your major, the other people who are with you become family, and even if you don't hang out with them daily, there is the sense of fierce protectiveness and love. So when one loses someone or something, it affects everyone. I'm not going to lie, it made me feel a lot of things: incredibly sad, the shock that while I may be stressing about little things, there are much bigger things happening, and the sudden need to call my own mom, apologize for our fight last week, tell her that I love her a lot, and take her off of my "Block" list from Facebook (yes, I took her off of Facebook. What can I say, I was mad...). And I guess I needed to read something, see something that would maybe restore a little sparkle, a little hope in my world. And well, for me, that other blog post did just that.
So, Sam? Thanks, lady.
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