Empty stations

I know all good things must come to an end, 

but I really wish that they wouldn't....

just some words to kill off one more unheard statement

of another dying afternoon.

Hold ground down

I really love Jordan Crane.


"I want to run all my life, screaming at the top of my lungs. Let all of life be an unfettered howl. Like the crowd greeting the gladiator. Don't stop to think, don't interrupt the scream, exhale, release life's rapture. Everything is blooming. Everything is flying. Everything is screaming, choking on it's screams. Laughter. Running. Let-down hair. That is all there is to life".
-Nobokov

You could even try 20% less hard.

My mother came home from New York and brought me a really cute "Obama 2008" pin that she insisted I attach to my purse immediately. She loves that I am so into politics and she would like to encourage my choice 100%. It was really cute seeing her so excited about her find.

I know a lot of kids my age are not the political firecrackers i'd hope for them to be, but it doesn't matter. I won't try to appeal to you and make you love politics, but I do ask one thing of you. Vote. Please?
We deserve something better than what we've had the last eight years.
You deserve something better.

"Here’s why you should vote:"

You are going to really love it, the whole strange procedure. You get to walk right into a building that you would never normally be allowed in, often an elementary school. You can pause in the hallway to look at all the weird school-art and feel the eerie vibe of hundreds of kids living their endless kid lives right nearby. Then you follow the arrows to the voting room and look at the faces of the volunteers - who are these people? There is a hush of secrecy, the voting booth is clunky, the whole thing seems fake somehow. You consider filling in all the bubbles, like you did on the SATs. But you don’t. You vote. You walk back outside feeling like you just gave blood or something, lightheaded from citizenry. You are wearing a sticker that says “I Voted” and you wish you could continue to get stickers like this throughout the day:
"I Ate Dinner," "I Went To Sleep," "I Got Out Of Bed," "I Went To Work."

But alas, it is just this one thing that we all do together, savor it.

Overqualified Fever.

I used to say I never want children. But I do. And I want grandchildren. I want them to have lovers and I want them to know how good it feels to embarrass yourself so totally in front of someone you care about. I want the world to last forever just for moments like that. How sappy can you get? But I do.

I don’t know when I started believing that the world was going to end no matter what, and there was nothing I could do about it but accept it. I don’t know when I started teasing the people who care, or when I started thinking that caring meant you were a flake. I think everyone around me seemed so convinced, so certain, that I let myself get carried away.

Brown paper packages tied up with string....

Things I currently love:

1. The wrinkles by his eyes when he smiles.
2. Playing hide & seek with my nephew (& the entire family!) struggling for places to hide in my small abode.
3. Tropical smoothie cafe (pomegranate plunge!)
4. Waking up without an alarm because i've had enough sleep to last me through the day.
5. Words like peregrine
6. Syntax. (surprised?)
7. Writing again.
8. Being alive.
9. Reading about politics (who would've thought?)
10. Hope

Dear Adulthood,

Some mornings I awake to find you blooming faster than I had hoped or anticipated. I know you're tired of the games i've been playing. [Adulthood, I know you know the one.] I act as if I'm shocked to see you at my doorstep, and you tell me I know better. You remind me of how i've been nurturing you and taking extra care of you [and feeding you miracle grow, it seems!] to make sure you came swiftly. Oh, I was successful, though success has never made me feel so despondent. There you are, holding steady through my excuses, bright eyed and welcoming me; and I want to come with you! Anxiety seeps out of every pore and you read the fear on my face like a familiar dusty book you found holding stories you listened to as a child. [I'm out of excuses, adulthood, I don't know how to keep you away any longer] I try to compose myself, telling you I knew you were coming, I just didn't prepare myself for your arrival! [Oh, I am the worst hostess, I know] Sit down, stay a while. Don't look so impatient.
I promise I'm coming with you, adulthood, I just don't know if I am ready to face you alone yet.

I always include a picture.

On Being Drunk Enough to Drive You Home Now

The windows were rolled down and her head hung lifelessly out the passenger’s side. It was raining, but she didn’t notice. Her dark red hair lay pasted to the side of her face as the raindrops ran through it. Her neck didn’t look comfortable, but I could swear I’ve read somewhere that you can’t feel pain when you’ve ingested an entire handle of rum in a three hour time span. I don’t feel sorry for her, anyway; all I can think about is that if she throws up on my leather seats, I’ll roll the window up with her neck in it.

I don’t usually drive drunk, but you’ve got to try everything once, right? Okay, that was not funny. You don’t have to tell me twice that those last few drinks should’ve been water, or that I should’ve designated a driver. Who are we kidding? Nobody wants to stay sober on New Years. I just need to stay focused on keeping myself awake. The soft breeze and rain drops hit the left side of my face and I grip the steering wheel with both hands, driving slowly on the slippery concrete; black, and full of muddy slush.

She peers up slightly from the window “es rainin’ allo’er my face.” she says, slurring.
I’m convinced that we’ll crash if I take my eyes off of the road, so I don’t look at her.
“Good, maybe It’ll rinse the drunk off and you can drive us home.” I say, irritated.
I’m not mad at her, I’m just concentrated on getting us home safely.
I begin to make a list of New Years resolutions and say them aloud.
Think of a better Halloween costume.
Keep better track of my socks.
Learn to play the cello.
Stop leaving my laundry in the dryer.
Learn Japanese. No, German. No, Spanish.
Yeah, Spanish is practical. I could learn Spanish, easy.

I realize my road is coming up soon, and I nudge her. She is unresponsive, but I decide to leave her alone until we pull up into my driveway. I just know that one of my neighbor’s cats is going to run out in the middle of the road when I look away. I always joke about hitting those cats, but I don’t really want to. God, my road seems so long.

I pull her out of the car. My shirt is soaked from her leaning on me, but that’s the last thing I’m worried about. It is difficult to walk for her when I can barely walk for myself. I fumble with my key in the lock and finally open my door. We drag our feet along, shushing our footsteps on the green carpet as we walk to the bathroom. I help her undress and give her some clothes to change into. I insist on wiping off of the toilet seat before she lays her head on it. Just as I’m about to leave, she peers up sleepily.
“You know what my New Years resolution is?” She asks.
“No, I don’t.”
“To get a new hobby.”
I laugh.
“But not tonight.” She mumbles. “Tonight I’m going to fall asleep by your toilet.”
“Okay” I tell her.
“Happy New Years to you, too.”