my mister bought me this pretty book while we were antiquing in st. johnsbury, vermont. we stumbled into a mom and pop bookstore (my favorite kind) and spent some time browsing the tiny literary haven. i instantly fell head over heels for the velvety cover.
she cried. tears pooling in the wrinkles at the corner of her eyes; begging me to help her. sneak her out when the nurses turned their backs. feeling like she was falling, she clutched and clawed at the bed.
i feel that old, familiar, sinking feeling rise up through my veins, slowly taking over my nervous system and drowning any trace of my true self.
i feel an intense yearning to be outside lately. i need to feel sand in my toes, wind in my hair, and dirt between my fingers. at the end of the day i want to be exhausted, sweaty, and dirty.
“beyond just writing about falling in love and out of love and wanting to do certain things and going out and partying and all the things that i grew up writing about, i want to write about deeper things.” .joan jett
like the paper thin skin of her hands, my grandmother’s eyes are almost transparent. i watch as they frantically dart around the room, desperate to focus and meet my gaze. they are pleading; begging me to understand a lifetime of tiny memories, of regrets, of little vignettes frozen in time.
“where’s your will to be WEIRD?” .jim morrison
Watch the “More Cowbell” Sketch Featuring Will Ferrell on Saturday Night Live (SNL).
my lovely girlfriends tricked me into meeting them at a vegan restaurant for dinner last week. as a super carnivore who eats cheeseburgers “as rare as you are legally allowed to serve them,” i was less than impressed.
Lately I find myself repeating the same advice to anyone in their early twenties: Start traditions with your friends. Traditions you adhere to year after year, no matter what.