white flag

The white flag of surrender has been raised. The white flag of peace. Of no ill will. The white flag of clarity and goodbye. I've jumped back and forth between humiliated and jubilated. Sadness and relief. It's not as hard as I thought it would be to let you go.

My sister talked me down and after surrounding myself with family and light, I saw the dark cloud you brought with you. I was hugged this weekend. Truly hugged. I was believed in and praised. I felt like me again. I felt excited for the future instead of imprisoned in the past, reaching up between the bars and barely grazing the silver lining of a future cloud.

I gave you everything I had. All of my faith was thrust to you. All I wanted to do was reassure you about how wonderful you are and how much potential you have. Through that process I lost my own potential and my dreams too.

The saddest part is that you didn't take any of it. Not a word. You stayed self deprecating and difficult and distant. You want so badly to be the bad guy, but you need to understand that you are a good guy. You would be a winner if you let yourself. If you pushed yourself or cared about more than just appearing unfeeling, you could dig yourself out of this mess. Maybe I could love you again.

This is what I've realized. You've changed. You aren't who you were when you were with me and I needed to be told that no matter what I did, I could never make you believe in yourself again. That's not my job. If you choose to stay this dark and deviant, I have to let you. Maybe one day you will wake up and I will be able to smile at you again. Best of luck in staying sad and drunk. I'll be over here living my life and laughing in love.

I loved you hard. I loved your memory though. It took seeing a weekend full of funerals and and family for me to realize that if I were to walk back in to you, I'd walk straight to death. I wouldn't be happy and I'd be held back.

I was wrong earlier. I was right to get brave. I was right to call you and thank you so much for answering me. It helped me see that you weren't you anymore and to see my potential again. My love for you had turned phantasmagorical. I was chasing my past and if I learned anything from Gatsby, it's the danger of doing that. I need to chase a brighter tomorrow, not a 10 watt past. I'm ready to be alone for a while. To see myself before I see others. I'm excited to be me for a while.

I don't think you will follow through in calling me. And that's ok. I don't know if I'd go anyway. It would be for the wrong reasons now. Thank you for inspiring beautiful poetry, I'm sure you still will. Thank you for the beautiful past. Thank you for making me see that I want no part of that to intoxicate my future, no matter how beautiful it was. I'll always look back at it with warm nostalgia.

Good luck, love. Goodbye.

via *

little beans

It's sweater weather at my house. My beans are cuter than anything in the world.

Excuse the fact that these are crappy cell phone pictures. But you can't escape how perfect these little girls are. I'm lost in their bright eyes and furry hugs.

Happy cold weather days.

music ramble

Tonight at the Imagine Dragons concert (!!!) the lead singer finished his opening song then said this:

"Are you ready to let go tonight, Utah? Are you ready to completely let go?"

My heart was already spinning and somersaulting because of this guy's rippling biceps and the pounding drum beat but then he won my heart over entirely. Yes, sir, I was ready to let go. I danced, I screamed, I cried, I lived. I felt so incredibly rejuvenated and so centered and complete.

I love watching live music because you can see the melodies flowing out of the musicians mouths and fingertips. I love seeing someone living their dreams. There is always one moment where they look so completely overwhelmed and where the good artists are genuinely so grateful that they have this amazing opportunity to inspire and connect with so many.

I know it's cliche but music truly is one of the most incredibly powerful forces on this Earth. It's so healing and connecting. I love seeing people get carried away in music, whether they are the listeners or the performers. These guys let themselves go. They let themselves dance around the stage and bounce with their guitars. Dan, the lead singer, got on his knees to beat a drum. He threw his head back and screamed. He even put his shirt in his mouth while he played, biting down hard because he couldn't contain his passion. (ALSO SIDE NOTE... neither could I. Good lord this man is unreal. Just... I want to wrap my body around his bicep. It's not weird.)

After the show as I was driving to IHOP with Niki, I thought about how powerful music really is. How that moment when the entire arena was dark except for the starbursts of cell phone light sprang up in the blackness will shine in my heart forever. About how bland life would be without those certain songs there to make sense of everything. About how there are times that the only way you can get a message across is to shove headphones in someone's ears and say "just listen to this. It's every single thing I am feeling."

Tonight after the show I felt such peace and such a creative jolt as well. During the show too. I felt stronger and confident. Radiant. I feel at peace with myself now. It's been a journey this week, as you all know. I feel like I've walked a thousand miles in a matter of days. I guess traumas will do that to you, you know? I feel like if a love of my doesn't work out, yeah it will suck but I will heal. I am a great person with so much to give. And you know what? I have music to keep me company and heal me and propel me.

Ever have those experience when you've heard a song a billion times but then you hear it one night and it's like hearing it for the first time? The words take new shape. They lift your heart up for examination and hold it out to you. That was tonight. You change, sometimes without even knowing it, and suddenly a song sticks out to you. A few words change everything.

This was a ramble of a post, but it's also 4 in the morning. Share some of your favorite music with me, lovelies :) I'd love to listen. I always want to be inspired.

via *

don't wanna live in fear and loathing

I haven't slept in three days. I feel like I'm driving myself crazy. This situation has been a struggle, as to be expected.

I was talking with my mom about the events I last wrote about. She looked at me sheepishly and said "I hate making this situation about myself but... maybe she passed so that when others pass, she's there to lead the way. If she's there waiting to guide them, I'll be less sad about their loss. Is that horrible? I don't want this to be about me."

But we have to process death this way. We can never know the grand reasons, if any, for why people pass from this world. All we can do is make their passing meaningful for ourselves. We process things and internalize events in our own ways. We cope differently and that is beautiful.

Tonight, I talked with my dear friend Dixie, who is also a therapist. I told her that through all this, I have felt like I've really learned about myself and my observational focuses. This was a wake up call. It made me get brave. It's also driven me insane. It's made me lose sleep and pray and plead for connection. I said that I hated that I was making this situation about my love life and my messy mind. I said that it felt weird, that I wasn't normal. She said it was completely normal.

For whatever reason, every moment I witnessed of this past weekend was cloaked in connection. I watched my grandfather with my grandmother. I saw her friends saying goodbye. I noticed couples linking hands even through personal hardships. Some situations are bigger than every day fights. Sometimes all you can do is screw the past, move forward, clasp hands and share a heartbeat. 

That is what I've learned.

I'm sick of feeding off of my own doubts. About myself. About who I love. About things I will never have control over. I want to live my life in love and passionate embraces. I want my late nights to be full of liquid words spilling onto a page and shared discussions about every little thing.

I love who I love. Screw opinions from others. I'm not afraid of second chances. I'm not afraid of him. I'm wary of being caused pain, but I'm done staying awake hour upon hour feeling haunted by fears and doubts.

I'm not afraid of being attached. Acting unfeeling and convincing yourself that you are worthless or a bad person doesn't make you tough. It makes you a coward. I refuse to be anything but brave. I refuse to pretend my feelings don't exist.

I want my mind to shut down for a few days, but sadly I'll never get that wish. But you know what? I can turn those gears into a powerful machine that will move mountains and shatter barriers. I'll scream at the top of my lungs. I'll dance my ass off. I'll cry until I can't breathe. I'll feel with every atom I am made of.

Because life is so short. And this world is so beautiful. And love is so pure.

via *

This was all inspired by this song by Marina and the Diamonds. Who is everything. Please listen.

There is no crime in being kind.

Not everyone is out to screw you over.

Maybe, yeah just maybe 

they just want to get to know you.

Now the time is here,

baby you don't have to live your life in fear.

And the sky is clear. 

It's clear of fear.

Don't wanna live in fear and loathing,

I wanna feel like I am floating

instead of constantly exploding,

in fear and loathing.

yesterday

Yesterday was one of the hardest days I've had in recent memory. Not that his year has been a cake walk, but yesterday was the cherry on top.

Yesterday afternoon my beautiful grandmother passed away after fighting a very sudden illness. She had been cleared for lung cancer after undergoing surgery to remove it about two weeks ago. She had a chest tube in place for the recovery process that subsequently became infected. She became septic after entering the hospital on Friday and sometime on Saturday stopped responding to medicine and also just stopped responding. The medicine kept her body alive long enough for her daughter to fly in to say goodbye. She passed peacefully Sunday afternoon surrounded by her family, myself included.

When I found out how bad the situation was on Saturday night, I drove right to the hospital with my mom and stayed until about three in the morning. Other members of my family had been there all evening and some even stayed overnight into Sunday. This outpouring of love and togetherness was something my grandmother would have loved. She was always trying to get us all together. Her soul must have been singing to see us all together, hugging and sharing memories.

I don't handle death well. I know that nobody really claims to handle it well, but I've always struggled since I was a little girl. When I was about 11 my aunt and uncle died nine hours apart. They were brother and sister, two separate causes. Michael had been battling cancer for over a year and Debbie died suddenly after a three day down hill battle with heart attack after heart attack, what we learned later were linked to a rare type of cancer. That sudden loss pulled my heart to pieces. And seeing my grandmother suddenly laid out in a hospital bed brought all of these memories flooding back.

How can this be happening? Why is it happening so fast? She's not done living yet. Grandma? What about grandpa? Wake up. You aren't done. We aren't done loving you here yet. Heaven can wait.

I stood by her side, holding her cool hand when my grandfather came up next to me. "Hey poo butt, thanks for coming. She's not doing too well. I think she's going to leave us soon." My grandfather is the single cutest person in the world, all curly hair and loving heart. He leaned in to his wife and said, "Hey sweetie, Emma's here. You look so good, sweetie. Emma's gonna talk to you now." He kissed her cheek and my cheek ripped in two, torn by a glass tear.

I cried hard and long. I apologized for not seeing her as much as I should, for fighting with her, for what was happening to her. I asked if she was ok leaving. I told her grandpa Frank would be taken care of. I told her how lucky she was to have the life she did. I told her it was ok to leave. I pinched her arm on the off chance she'd wake up to swat my hand away. I told her how sweet Frank was being to her. I told her about the boy I love and asked for any sort of cosmic help she could supply to help us out. Then I just cried and waited to be led away.

Even as we walked back to the waiting room, I couldn't get myself together. My mom went into the room with my other family as I tore off into a corner to let my heart scream. I thought of my Aunt, my grandmother, my uncle. But then I thought of the people left behind. How small my Grandpa looked, how much he loved her. How helpless it must make someone to watch the person you love most slip out of your hands. I missed them all then. But I could feel my aunt beside me, my grandmother too. I shut off the tears, fixed my hair, and went back to my family.

As much as a trauma like this sucks, I adore watching people come together in crisis. Priorities change and what really matters is all that remains, as cliche as it is. Sunday morning, more of my family had arrived and each husband held his wife. Each brother laughed with each sister. Each parent wiped a child's tear. You could feel each soul reach out and grab another's hand.

I sat with my cousins on the couch in my grandmother's room, watching her body breathe, knowing her soul was just hovering above her, smiling at us all. Her best friend's came to visit her. Her sweet grey friend hugged her and whispered, "Hello my friend. I'm so sorry to see you go. I love you, my friend." We all talked to her one more time before standing in a shaking circle, feeding each other tears and hope as the machines were turned off as my grandfather stroked her forehead. "Goodbye my sweetheart, I'll see you soon." He backed away while the wires were untangled and suddenly grabbed the doctor's arm. "I know we have to leave the room so she can get cleaned up, but I'd like one more kiss."

One more kiss.

I couldn't process the idea of never being able to kiss your love again. I can't process it. It's what hurts the most. I saw loving hands tighten on shoulders as the thought sank in. I wished my love was near me so I could squeeze his hand too. Soon, I hope.

After we left and my grandma's room was emptied of beeping and buzzing lights, we came back in to say goodbye. I approached her bed and my grandpa cut in front of me and grabbed my hand. "Sweetie, Emma's back to say goodbye. You look good." He kissed her forehead. "I'll see you soon." I rubbed his back, rubbed my grandma's arm, but couldn't squeak anything out of my mouth.

In the hall, my family remained in a group around my grandfather. It was like a group of emperor penguins keeping the smallest and coldest in the center for protection and warmth. Funerals were arranged and hugs were plentiful. My grandpa told us what a blessing this was, for us to be here together. He thanked us for the support and hugged us each goodbye.

I got home and slept hard and deep for hours. I had one dream. I dreamt of calling up the man I love and talking and laughing. I woke up in silence. As the night wore on, I grew brave. I dialed the number.

He answered.

Please please please hug your loved ones. Life changes so fast. Always be honest with your feelings and never EVER hide them because you never know when that Sunday dinner will be your last one. Never stay angry, never stay distant. Kiss your loved ones every day. Don't be afraid to take a leap of faith or make a random phone call. Take chances. Believe. Laugh often and lean on family and friends. Don't be afraid to love hard. Don't be afraid of staying in love, never letting it go. Your heart knows better than you do.

Love each other, my lovelies.
Send out good thoughts.

Rest now, grandma. We love you.

i can feel you touching me

All my friends tell me

I should move on

I'm lying in the ocean

Singing your song.

Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah

ah ah ah ah ah

That's how you sang it.

Loving you forever 

can't be wrong,

even though you're not here

won't move on.

Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah 

ah ah ah ah ah

That's how you played it.

And there's no remedy 

for memory

Your face is like a melody

It won't leave my head.

Your soul is haunting me

and telling me

that everything is fine

but I wish I was dead.

Every time I close my eyes,

it's like a dark paradise.

No one compares to you

I'm scared that you

won't be waiting on the other side.

Every time I close my eyes,

it's like a dark paradise.

No one compares to you,

I'm scared that you 

won't be waiting on the other side.

All my friends ask me

why I stay strong,

tell em when you find true love

it lives on.

Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah

ah ah ah ah ah

that's why I stay here.

And there's no remedy

for memory

your face is like a melody,

it won't leave my head.

Your soul is haunting me

and telling me 

that everything is fine,

but I wish I was dead.

Every time I close my eyes

it's like a dark paradise.

No one compares to you,

I'm scared that you 

won't be waiting on the other side.

Every time I close my eyes

it's like a dark paradise.

No one compares to you,

but there's no you

except in my dreams tonight.

Oh oh oh oh 

ha ha ha ha

I don't wanna wake up 

from this tonight.

Oh oh oh oh

ha ha ha ha

I don't wanna wake up

 from this tonight.

There's no relief

I see you in my sleep,

and everybody's rushing me,

but I can feel you touching me.

There's no release 

I feel you in my dreams,

telling me I'm fine.

Every time I close my eyes,

it's like a dark paradise.

No one compares to you,

I'm scared that you

won't be waiting on the other side.

Every time I close my eyes,

it's like a dark paradise.

No one compares to you,

but there's no you

except in my dreams tonight.

Oh oh oh oh 

ha ha ha ha

I don't wanna wake up

from this tonight.

Oh oh oh oh

ha ha ha ha

I don't wanna wake up

from this tonight.

via *

three worlds

Right now my head is inhabiting three very different worlds simultaneously, all coming together in the strangest connected web. That connection tells me that fate is playing a little waiting game with me, a cruel game of keep away. Not cruel in the usual sense. Not a mocking cruelty. More like a cruelty that is teaching me patience, the meaning of following your heart, the meaning of resilience and diligence, the meaning of what it feels like to see it all coming together right in front of you, just out of reach.

World one is the present. I'm here, coasting along. The present is the blank canvas. It's there, there isn't much going on, but it is there and ready to burst with potential.

World two is the past. This is the defiant splash of red paint that seeps deep into the canvas and gives it life and breath. It's all of the little coincidences that is making my world come together and keeps hinting at a future that I am more than ready for. Over the past few weeks, little bits and pieces of life have been reappearing in front of me that eerily connect to things that were happening at the same time last year at this time. An old friend who I had dinner with on the night of a very tender memory contacted me yesterday after I spent all day planning to contact him. Eery fate. A group of customers who used to frequent my cafe, who then ended up being jerks and disappeared, have began reappearing at their little corner table. Weird fate. That late night lonely feeling has crept back in. The kind that can only be quenched with either a Netflix binge accompanied by a late night cheeseburger or staying up rereading the darkly sexy passages of Lolita. Fate is toying with me and watching me squirm. The suspense is killing me, darling fate.

The puzzle pieces are all laid next to each other, they just need a little urging to get them connected in the right way.

World three is the imminent future. It's destiny and it's hope. It's the moment when you step back from the Monet to see the full picture pixelating together before your eyes. It's the moment you can feel coming in your heart long before your brain gets the memo.

I can feel you in my bones. I feel you in my soul. The wait is long and lonely. I know that the three worlds run on my ability to over think and over analyze. I know these are dangerous and if my ability to over analyze and over think could power the world, we would have an energy overload and no need for fossil fuels. But analysis and deep thought make me feel powerful and dangerous. And feeling dangerous makes me feel you.

via *

night

I've found myself staying up

later and later

lately. 

I feel you next to me

while the rest of the world

is sound asleep,

your hands on my hip,

the curve of you

curved on me.

The hours tick away softly

as your voice and sighs

grow louder in my ears.

Two AM.

We lay on your floor

listening to music.

I lay on my back,

staring at the wilting

neon stars on the ceiling.

Three AM.

We curl into each other

on your couch.

I curl into myself,

pressed into my wall.

Four AM.

Your lips travel

the length of my spine.

A cold wind finds its way

across my back

through my sheets.

Five AM.

I see you above me,

brushing the hair 

from my eyes.

I close my eyes

to keep your ghost 

alive.

Six AM.

We lay together,

panting and alive.

I lay alone,

sweating nostalgia

from every pore.

As the sun leaks 

through the curtains

and the rest of the world

shatters awake,

my eyes declare defeat.

I fall asleep

with you by my side.

via *

Penpal Post

Can we all agree that snail mail is by far the most superior way to communicate? It's so personal and loving that someone would take the time to write you a letter or send you a package. And it makes me feel like an adult to get a letter that's all mine. Not junk mail or a bill, but a letter just for me. 

I've always wanted a penpal so when the lovely Emerald Dove put up a post asking for a penpal I jumped at the chance! Lauren is the absolute cutest person in the world. She is so smart and so sweet and I cannot cannot CANNOT wait to get to know her more through our package exchanges. Her package to me was exceptionally wonderful. Take a peek:

She's from the UK, which is phenomenal. I've always had an obsession with England. Once when I was a little girl and a teacher asked me what I wanted to be when I was a grown-up I answered "British." I'm working on it! She asked me if there was anything specific I wanted her to send me. I asked for a Ribena, a British drink I found at a British store in Salt Lake once and become completely obsessed with. I also asked for Maoam's candies since there is a handsome British youtuber who loves them. I've been dying to try them! (They were amazing! All the best parts of Laffy Taffy's without the waxiness of American candy.) The Cadbury bar was just a lovely surprise :)

I also had the idea to send each other a copy of a favorite book that has a different cover in the UK vs the USA. She's a fellow book lover and I personally feel that there is no greater bond than sharing books. She sent me a copy of The Book Thief that I have been dying to get. This book is my absolute favorite (Along with Gatsby) and the British cover is perfect beyond words. It's quite possible that I cried when I saw it and held it and smelled it. Oh books. 

It was the best surprise to get the package in my mailbox on Friday. On an unrelated note, I also got my official acceptance letter to the University of Utah so I can go back to school in January. I opened the letter and felt an immense sense of calm and purpose come over me. My future is all coming together, one gorgeous puzzle piece at a time. 

The mail was full of wonder on Friday. Even my text message inbox was full of a lovely surprise from the perfect boy. It's coming together, everyone. October is nailing it. 

Flashback: November 11th

I belted my black dress, threw on my red jacket, sat on the crushed velvet couch in my front room, rubbing my thumbs in hasty circles around each other. Your headlights pierced through my curtains of hair as I watched your car roll into my driveway. Before you could make your way up the snowy walk, I was out the door coming toward you. My heart pumped too fast, my face flushed, I prayed I wouldn't slip as you grabbed my hand and opened the door for me. While you walked back to the driver's side, I exhaled sharply, trying to calm down. You made me so nervous. I'd never been nervous around a boy. You made me nervous, thrills running through my fingertips.

The talk was light and colored by trepidation, the night we met slapped around in jest. The oddity of us actually going out after the strangest meeting possible.

You look nice in real lighting.
I like your voice when it's not shouting over the bass dropping speakers.
More water?
Your halloween costume was clever.
I'm glad we're really doing this.
More pizza?
Sorry for that night.
What a great memory.
I can't believe that was real.
I like your tattoos.
Any dessert?
I love your dress.
You're smart.
Want to see my apartment?
(Bet you say that to all the girls.)
Just you.

Suddenly, the girls next to us caught us mid conversation. "We're studying interpersonal relationships in school. Are you two on a first date? Cause so far he's really into you, and she's still unsure. But oh my god you guys are so cute, and so are your tights, girl. Give him a chance." Your face grew brighter than the candle in front of us and I laughed loudly as I darted my gaze to your nervous smile. They'd given your cool away. James Dean sunk back deeper on your chest as you hugged your shoulders up to your ears and hung your head. We stood to leave, I thanked the girls for the best dessert I could have hoped for, and we ran all the way to your car laughing and blushing.

You stayed quiet until we reached your apartment. Suddenly you seemed unsure and vulnerable. I gripped your hand, suddenly the strong one in the car. They are wrong, I whispered, I'm not unsure at all. Show me your apartment. You smiled in relief and James Dean sighed on your chest.

We watched The Walking Dead.
You held my hand as my heart disintegrated in your palm.
We drove along the nighttime streets toward my house.
Slow down, I thought, this can't be all. I'm not done tonight. 

We had to traverse through the unplowed narrows to my back gate and up to my back door. You left me at the door, no kiss on my lips, and started to walk away. I grabbed your forearm, right where your compass inked out, pointing north to my chest. I'll walk you to the gate, I offered. I'll be the gentleman, I joked.

Goodbye was hard and then you met my eye line.
"You'll be around, right? You're not going anywhere?"
No, love. I'm always here.
Finally your lips met mine, hungry and soft. We kissed against the gate, then against the door. You walked away and I shut the door softly behind me, falling against it, eyes closed, breath hot and alive.

I ran to my front door, threw it open and stood on the porch, on the tips of my toes, a bird waiting to fall out of the nest. Your car was on. You flipped on the overhead light, tilted your head with a coy smile and beckoned me with your finger. My heart exploded. My eyes blurred. I loved you then. I knew right then, and I let myself go. (I blush even now, months later. I can't type that memory with open eyes.)

Your headlights, the frosty air, your arms. They held me captive against the garage door, squeaking and staring as we kissed again and again. The stars spun as we finally let go, as you finally drove away.

I fell asleep still smelling you on my skin and tasting you on my lips.

via *

Dear Rainbow Rowell

I finished the best book last night. It's called Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell and I urge you- I implore you- to rush out to a bookstore and get this book immediately. I was so taken by this book and even with its 434 pages, I raced through it. I found myself postponing reading it because I knew how fast I would get through it and I wasn't ready for it to end. But the second I picked it up last Sunday night, I finished the second half of the book in two hours. When the book closed and my dry eyes finally pried themselves off of the last page, I had that lovely settled feeling that comes after finishing a perfect book.

If you are a person who considers yourself to have any sort of internet presence, you will connect with the main character Cath so much. She writes fan fiction for a series of books about a young wizard named Simon Snow. While she can't seem to connect as much in the real world and her group of real life acquaintances is small, online she has any number of friends at her fingertips. Although my blog doesn't have the 20,000 hits hers does, I relate to her feeling of connection and love through the internet. I love my blog readers, I love reading other blogs, I love this internet communication.

If you consider yourself a writer at all, read this book. Rainbow Rowell has the most delicate and perfect way with words. She just... she gets it. She gets what writing feels like, the urgency that you can feel building in your fingertips as you write or when you feel an idea building in your head and no matter where you are, you just start intensely staring into space as the characters move inside your head.  Samples:

"She liked to sit next to him and watch all that good come out of his hand. Watch the jokes spill out in real time. Watch the words click together."

"'But there's nothing more profound than creating something out of nothing.' Her lovely face turned fierce. 'Think about it, Cath. That's what makes a god- or a mother. There's nothing more intoxicating than creating something from nothing. Creating something from yourself.'"

"Your characters quiver, Cath, like they're trying to evolve right off the page."

I just... I can't, you guys. She is unafraid of words and her passion jumps off the page and seeds inside of your soul. I cannot seem to ever forget her characters and I struggle starting new books after I finish hers because I just love these people so much.

The thing I love the most about her writing is how she writes romantic scenes and romantic feelings. This is another area that she just gets. She makes is so raw and so real and it was the first time that I really felt urgency in the romance. A lot of books make every love scene and every romantic feeling very delicate and light. "I can't get close enough to you, I want to be near you..." BLAH. No. It's more than that. It's an all consuming desire and Rainbow Rowell knows that and she writes that. And... it's so incredibly sexy I cannot stand it. I've had to put her books down and fan myself because YES. Just... read this:

"Right about then, Cath realized just how close she was to the edge of Levi's jaw- and remembered what she'd promised herself to do there  She closed her eyes and kissed him below his chin, behind his jaw, where he was soft and almost chubby, like a baby. He arched his neck, and it was even better than she'd hoped.... Cath brought her hands up to his neck. God, he was warm- skin so warm and thick, a heavier ply than her own."

"Levi's mouth was open, too, and he kept pulling back a little like he was going to say something; then his chin would jut forward again, back into hers. God, his chin. She wanted to make an honest woman of his chin. She wanted to lock it down."

I JUST NO AHHHH

Don't even get me started on the sexiness of Eleanor and Park. A taste:

"If he were to look up at her now, he'd know exactly how stupid she was. She could feel her face go soft and gummy. If Park were to look up at her now, he'd know everything. 
He didn't look up. He wound the scarf around his fingers until her hand was hanging in the space between them.
Then he slid the silk and his fingers into her open palm. 
And Eleanor disintegrated."

"She wanted to lose herself in him. To tie his arms around her like a tourniquet."

"'And you look like a protagonist.' She was talking as fast as she could think. 'You look like the person who ins in the end. You're so pretty, and so good. You have magic eyes,' she whispered. 'And you make me feel like a cannibal.'"

That protagonist line? My favorite line in the history of all books. It is perfect. I want my man to look like a protagonist. Get out of her, Rainbow Rowell. You win.

Go get these books, everyone. I can't even write well when I write about these books because they are too perfect for my words. The only way I can describe these books is with Rainbow Rowell's words from Eleanor and Park:

"'I just want to break that song into pieces,' she said, 'and love them all to death.'" I love every piece of these books. To death.

via *

deviation in the fates

"I have often noticed that we are inclined to endow our friends with the stability of type that literary characters acquire in the reader's mind. No matter how many times we reopen "King Lear," never shall we find the good king banging his tankard in high revelry all woes forgotten, at a jolly reunion with all three daughters and their lapdogs. Never will Emma rally, revived by the sympathetic salts in Flaubert's father's timely tear. Whatever evolution this or that popular character has gone through between the book covers, his fate is fixed in our minds, and, similarly we expect our friends to follow this or that logical and conventional pattern we have fixed for them. Thus X will never compose the immortal music that would clash with the second-rate symphonies he has accustomed us to. Y will never commit murder. Under no circumstances can Z ever betray us. We have it all arranged in our minds, and the less often we see a particular person the more satisfying it is to check how obediently he conforms to our notion of him every time we hear of him. Any deviation in the fates we have ordained would strike us as not only anomalous but unethical. We would prefer not to have known at all our neighbor, the retired hot-dog stand operator, if it turns out he has just produced the greatest book of poetry his age has seen."

-Lolita, Vladimir Nabokov

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sick as the day is long

I love when the seasons change. My lungs however, do not seem to agree with me. Anyone else get sick every single year when summer fades into fall? It's the worst in the world because I always seem to be sick during the last good days of fall weather before Utah decides it's time for winter... three days into October. These are the last few days of sunshine, light breezes, bundled hikes and walks through the leaves. NOPE. I get to be stuck in bed, feeling dizzy every time I stand and coughing up my lungs.

Symptoms. 1. Bone rattling cough that leaves me crying and legitimately afraid of dying from lack of air. 2. The feeling of living inside of a snow globe every time I stand up. 3. Inability to keep warm even under a billion heavy blankets. 4. Runny nose capable of solving any drought crisis. (I'm sounding real good right about now. Boys, I am single and I would appreciate soup delivery.)

I have however read a lot and written a lot, so there is a bright side. I've caught up on a bunch of my shows (Insert me looking like a 70 year old woman watching ma stories.) I've also had a lot of time to think because being sick forces me from going 60 to slowing down to a good 3 miles per hour. Being sick as an adult is so much less fun than being sick as a kid. When you're a kid, you're missing school. As an adult, you're missing work. Homework makeup gives you something to do while you lie in bed all day. But missing money-making work? No good. No good at all.

I remember being sick in the winter of 7th grade. I missed an entire week of school and my mom made me go to school on Friday and collect all of my work that I'd missed so I could catch up over the weekend. Those four days were awesome. My mom set me up in her bed, I dozed on and off all day, threw up a few times but what did that matter when I was watching the Martha Stewart Christmas Special on repeat all week? After that week I was a yule log expert AND I could sing every song from The Wiggles Christmas Special.

It was so fun playing hookie from school and then going back the next week among the concern of teachers and friends. But now. Nobody cares if you're sick because that means covering shifts. And it's a lot less fun knowing you're losing money as opposed to classroom time. Here's hoping this clears up quickly! I got things to do, lungs. Work with me!

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junk drawer

Outside the sky is trying to hold back October tears, letting a few get brushed away by the trees outside my window. Calm autumn tears. Transitional tears.

I'm huddled up in bed, a drawer from my bedside table in my lap, heavy with misplaced odds and ends. Bottles of lotion, old and new. Lip gloss from various Easter baskets and Christmas stockings. Old CD cases, lists of books to be read, batteries, bobby pins, dental floss, band aids. Everything labeled too essential to be far from my bed, but not essential enough to be sorted into a proper place.

My hand is swallowed by the open mouth in the drawer. I feel a bite and rip my hand out of the pile, dripping red from a hole lightly opened by a rogue thumbtack. I follow the stream of red and see that it's gathering on a folded up receipt page. It's crumpled near the back of the drawer, now cloaked in dark human red. I unfold the note.

A page of Barnes and Noble book recommendations, all crossed out. The top of the page proclaims "You may also like..." leading to a penned response that simply states "ME." Underneath that, "I love you, a lot. R."

The bleeding of my finger has stopped as the pregnant sky starts to fall. The page is ruined, marred by maroon. I contemplate keeping the page, blood and all. But I'm not that morbid. Not quite yet. This note was never junk, a love note that must have drifted into the drawer outside of a book's page, where it should have stayed. Maybe soon another note will drift into my hands, kept safer this time. Cherished and protected. This time.

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10.1.13

• I had myself a nice little blog-cation while I finished out the month of September, finished my internships (!!!!), and started working once again at Barnes and Noble. I am so happy September is gone. 
• This song? It's an unreleased Lana song that I can't get enough of. Story of my life/ my theme song.

• I allowed myself the last day of September to be sulky and sad. I wanted to finish the month of September relishing the suckage of the past month so that I could wake up this morning and face the month of October with optimism and passion. I'm over feeling creatively isolated and I'm over feeling alone. This puzzle of my life is coming together, so help me lord.
• I'm reading Lolita right now and I am so conflicted about this book. On one hand, it is some of the sexiest writing I have ever read. And on the other hand... this man is in love with a 12 year old. I find myself getting so worked up, but then you remember she's 12 and everything is weird. It's one of the best books I've read in a long time.
• Last Saturday I went to a concert with Shelby my best friend and it was a steaming hot plate of awkward and delicious. I saw a person I hadn't seen since I was 17 and it was weird and judgmental and I haven't been that intensely looked up and down in many years. I loved it.
• I believe that brains have a sort of emotional memory. Some days I find myself in a bad mood that cannot be explained. It isn't PMS, it isn't because the day is a bad day. I think it could have something to do with something that has happened in previous years on the same day and your brain has remembered that subconsciously. It has been one year to the day that I saw Sir Idaho who ripped me apart/ world's largest douche. I was in the worst mood today for no reason, unexplainably sad and lost today. But you know, now I feel happy and ready for this month. At the end of this month last year, I met the most wonderful person I've known and hopefully I'll be seeing them again so so soon. 
• Let's do this October. Cannot wait.

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