Where Is He

I wrote this some time ago, and I just read it again today. I don't know how I feel about it anymore. It makes me happy, and sad, both at the same time. I don't know if this is what I want anymore. But it was a lovely dream all the same.

Where is he, I ask you?

Eighteen years have gone and he should've come by now.

Perhaps if I describe him to you, you will know who I mean. Perhaps you will have seen him wandering the street, eating a bagel on the subway, strolling through Boston Commons, undoubtedly looking lost.

Well, first of all, he looks inexplicably like Darren Criss. He likes to wear sweaters and fitted jeans and yes, scarves in the winter. Sometimes, when he's reading, he wears glasses.

He takes me to Feist concerts and likes it when I wear lace and he sings Jack Johnson to me while I try to fall asleep.

Sometimes I wake up to see him sleeping in my chair and I touch the stubble on his chin; he grabs my hand and holds it there. He reads to me too, poetry, the fruit of love, out of the large volumes I keep mostly unopened in my makeshift crate bookshelves.

He is soft and strong simultaneously, which seems like an impossibility, but it's not. Not for him.

He knows when I'm lying and he calls me out.

But he's gentle.

He reaches into my hurting parts and draws them out.

He has discernment

But he never judges me

Because he loves me.

I don't think he exists. But I'll love him all the same, and I won't settle for anything other than him.

If you find him, tell him I'm still here. Waiting. Waiting for him to complete me.

December Playlist

Would you forgive me if I said-

This week has been insane, in some good ways but mostly bad ways, and I've barely had a chance to take a breath, so no I haven't edited the tattoo post yet, and I don't want to rail about all my personal crap on this blog, because let's face it, that's just uncomfortable.

But I made this dumb commitment where I said I'd do a post every week, which kind of ruined blogging for me, because I hate commitment. As soon as I commit to something, I stop wanting to do it. However, I'm trying, for once in my life, to stick with something. So I am going to post this week, even if it isn't about anything terribly significant at all.

You know what that means. December playlist time! Enjoy my dears.

(First, before you read on, go and buy these three albums and listen to them on repeat. Then you can listen to the rest of the playlist.
- Ceremonials: Florence + the Machine
- Metals: Feist
- Nine Types Of Light: TV on the Radio)


1. Lonely Boy: The Black Keys
2. Androgyny: Garbage
3. Sea of Love: Cat Power
4. Video Games: Lana Del Rey
5. Poison & Wine: The Civil Wars
6. Flashing Lights: Chase & Status
7. Life is Long When You're Lonely: Monastir
8. The King and All of His Men: Wolfgang
9. How Come You Never Go There: Feist
10. Nicest Thing: Kate Nash
11. Quicksand: La Roux
12. More Than Life: Whitley
13. Bite Hard: Franz Ferdinand
14. Get On: Dirtmitts
15. Colors: Grouplove
16. Falling Slowly: Glen Hansard & Marketa Irglova
17. What You Know: Two Door Cinema Club
18. Lisztomania: Phoenix
19. All I Ever Wanted: The Airborne Toxic Event
20. Let's Sick On The Decks: Grandadbob
21. F*** Was I: Jenny Owens Young
22. One Evening: Feist
23. Set Fire to the Third Bar: Snow Patrol
24. We Are Young: Fun ft. Janelle Monae
25. What Beats Within: Jenny Owens Young
26. Stealing Babies: Our Lady Peace
27. Dissolve: Jenny Owens Young
28. Clean Break: Jenny Owens Young

Simple Joys and Christmastime

Today I went to a second-hand clothing shop in Cambridge called The Garment District. I bought 11.6 pounds of clothing for $11.60. I bought three more shirts for around $9 bucks each (they were deemed too nice to go into the dollar-a-pound pile) and also, a hat. I love a good hat. And I love a good bargain. Some of the clothes are, well- understandably discarded by others. But I can make them into something cool, I think. I think almost anything can look cool. It's all about the confidence of the person wearing it.

It rained today: it should've snowed. But even without the snow, tomorrow is still Christmas Eve, and I'm glad. I've discovered something about being home that I never used to know. Since college is in New York and the only time I'm ever home is during school break, it's become a lot more enjoyable of a place. The only things I associate home with anymore are hanging out with people I love, sleeping late in my old bed, playing with my dog: just relaxing. It's really lovely. I like being home so much more now than I ever did in high school. I like it a lot.

I drank a lot of coffee today, far too much- I can't really have caffeine anymore since it does terrible things to my body, but I'm indulging because it's the holidays. Currently I'm in my favorite pajamas (my favorite pajamas always consist partially of worn, faded, over-sized t-shirts.) They're not sexy pajamas, my friend pointed out to me. She said she could picture me, married someday, writing, wearing my skirts all day and then getting home to my cold apartment and climbing in bed with my laptop and my oversized t-shirts and my glasses next to my husband...She can picture my whole life very well. Apartments and the city in the winter and simple joys, takeout meals and candlelight and cheap living all around. Book-reading and throw rugs and things that are broken and things that are recycled and creative and homemade and a lot of making do. I think it sounds like an okay picture.

I'm sitting in my bed, surrounded my my secondhand clothes, watching Bridget Jones' Diary, which is a fairly terrible movie, except I love Renee Zellweger and I love Hugh Grant and I love Colin Firth, and I love Jane Austen remakes too, even crappy ones. And anyway, BJD is one of those crappy movies that I love to indulge myself in once in a while. I'm watching it and eating homemade fudge: one of the perks of having a mother whose a 2nd grade teacher: at Christmastime she gets lots of presents from the kids, and one of those presents is always, inevitably, fudge.

I'm also listening, while I write this, to my winter playlist. Right now it consists of Feist's new album, "Metals", particularly the songs "Graveyard" and "How Come You Never Go There". It also consists of Greg Hansard and Marketa Irglova's song "Falling Slowly", The Civil Wars' song, "Poison and Wine", Lana Del Rey's song, "Video Games", Kate Nash's song, "Nicest Thing", Snow Patrol's song, "Set Fire to the Third Bar"...and well, a lot of other music I'm not going to list right now. But it's beautiful stuff, and it's perfect for the mood I'm in right now. (It's not all depressing, I only listed the sadder songs, because they're what I'm listening to now. They seemed fitting.)

I wrote a long post about tattoos and things, and I'm sorry I didn't post it last week like I said I would. It needs editing and such, but I'm off to watch the rest of the movie now, and eat more fudge, and enjoy my new clothes, and enjoy the rest of my evening. I'll post it in the near future, but until then, Merry Christmas to you all. Take baths while you're home, listen to "Metals", light candles, gaze at your Christmas tree, go into the city at night, try to ice skate if you get a chance, wear scarves and hats and mittens, see old friends, hold hands, sleep late, and drink coffee. Let your souls be brightened, because it is that time of year. I wish you all peace and happiness, if only for this holiday. Tis the season.

Meanwhile, if you're desperate for some good reading and this blog has once again let you down, maybe this will satisfy you till I get some better stuff posted up: http://thoughtcatalog.com/2011/one-sentence-love-story/. I certainly enjoyed it.