[Two Tunes Tuesday: Good morning.]

Good evening. Here's "Good Morning (Pink Ganter Remix)" by William Fitzsimmons and "Girls Like You" by The Naked and Famous. My brain is a little frazzled from the last week of birthday celebrating (first Michelle, then Domineau, then me me meee), but these songs have been filling my ears nonstop. Semi-related: Celebrating my last days of being 23, I also very cheesily listened to Jimmy Eat World's "23" about a million times this weekend. (I salute the poor soul who was forced to blare it on repeat in his car on our date night.) It's a good song on its own, but it also kind of fit my year a little too perfectly. Que dramatic, no? Anyway, have searched in vain for a similarly fitting song about being 24, but such a tune seems not to exist. Can someone write me one? K thanks. In the meantime, have declared "Good Morning" to be my anthem for this year. Sweet, simple, and happy...just what any little girl's 24th* year should be. :) Love to you all from this 24 2/365 year old.

*technically, 25th. i can do math.


hd! [happy birthday.] ll

[Roomies in Central Park.]

Somehow in the middle of our crazy roomie NYC weekend...between the Guggenheim and Columbia and Magnolia and the Village and Co. and WTC and penthouse suite table dancing and the Brooklyn Bridge and Jane and the Manhattan 8th Ward and Levain and Cafe Ronda...we managed to take a breath and enjoy the cherry blossoms on a lovely stroll through Central Park. 

Melissa, Lynn, Domineau, Cha Cha, Rachel, Jess, Ginette

As the resident New Yorker of the bunch, I got to be the mother duckling for the weekend, leading my little line of roommates up and down the city to visit my favorite places, and some new ones too. It was wonderful to spend last weekend with these girlies. There are a million of us...or seven, to be exact...and sometimes I feel like I live in a bizarre mix of a sorority, convent, and Bieber fan clubhouse, but I mostly just feel very lucky to live with such amazing souls. We've never all managed to be in the same place at the same time, so this weekend girls' trip was the perfect opportunity for a little roommate bonding.

Love you, roomies! 0!

[Mormon Hey Girl.]

Haven't blogged about RyGos in a while. 

For all my Mormons:

via Mormon Hey Girl

You're welcome.

[Two Tunes Tuesday: Give me sleep.]

Does anyone really care about my commentary? I think not. 

So, here:

[Poem.]

Spor a dic: n[o]. Love poem

                                                                     after A. Van Jordan

Rinse v. 1. To cleanse by flushing with liquid (as water): Shrubs, low houses, seventeen year olds; the kitchen window is just taller than my head if I stand in June evenings crossed through with shadows, rinsing dishes, ham grease crusted on. 2. n. murky: You, your bike, passing in the  rinsed light: pass twice, turn, pass again and then with one finger you’re raising goosebumps on my neck under my hair, 3. to remove (dirt or impurities) by washing lightly: rinsing me with kisses: kissing: it’s like standing in a direct spot of sun, or me a white shirt after bleach, back to clean-so-clean and flapping on the wash line over the hedge(s) n. 1. a fence or boundary formed by a dense row of shrubs or low trees; barrier, limit: all the neighbors use to keep their dogs fenced in; you kiss me like a mower, you flatten shrubs and open gates then 2. encircle: you reach forward and you’re hedging me; I turn and I’m hedging you 3. a means of protection or defense: we’re a small neighborhood in revolt, we’re sharp with thorns, 4. A calculatedly noncommittal or evasive statement: and we’re in your car with the ripped seats and I’m asking where to? And you start hedging, did I like the book about, you say, when you know I mean which state, let’s drive, I say baby let’s drive I say I feel shut in, I’m thinking how I’ve never seen a desert but then we’re necking and it takes me weeks to learn 5. to protect oneself from losing by a counter-balancing transaction: I’m here in case your girl-friend leaves; she doesn’t, and I’m laundry left in the rain long before I’ve learned to  hedge, yes it’s long nights on the telephone talking like a see-saw again adv. 1. in return: back: and I woke up this morning and wanted you to turn again to me, because my dreams smelled like your soap 2. another time: once more: anew: though there is, (and I know), no way to begin again even if you turned. 3. on the other hand: And then again I know better than to have what I’ve already captured, and 4. in addition: besides: again I know your lower half, your heart-tooth’s rotten root, so yes knowing better, I think of you spo rad i cal ly adv. occurring occasionally, singly, or in scattered instances; fitful: (yes, I think of you) and I’m fury without generation, watering my houseplants over the sill leaving splashes, pools as when, after infrequent arguments, my body found its way across asphalt to the park’s near entrance where rain met still water in starts and fits, and hands handled touch-me-nots, made to open—sometimes—when touched roughly or softly, springs and seeds bursting in all directions, parts to all of the plant exploding under my grasp into green fireworks of shock, scattering bugs in rinsed light, leaving you never knowing just which parts of me were freed, or how, or to where.

- C. Wilding

[A weekend in Miami.]

Before there was NYC #roomieweekend (pictures to come), there was Miami #springbreak:

Basically last weekend consisted of toasting in the sun all day and partying in beach bars all night. A lovely person very generously took me to Miami for a little weekend getaway with friends, and we had a wonderful little time together. As the only non-drinker of the bunch, I'm pretty sure my designated driver blood became 90% caffeine for the weekend, and I have since developed a really attractive eyelid twitch (look closely). I also returned a little, um, burnt, and can now be tracked by the trail of peeled skin I leave behind me. It's sexy.

Though the years I lived in Miami now feel like just a brief, blisful moment, the few times I've been back since then have always felt like going home to me. To my twelve year old self, Miami felt like a different world, a world where it was normal to see a peacock strutting across the street and parrots flying overhead, where salsa and meringue music played in the grocery store, and where footballs kicked through high school field goal posts had to be collected from the ocean after the game. This time around, I went back to see my old house (the middle row of pics above) in Coral Gables, and even creeped around the back of the property to take a sneaky pic through the hedges. Happy memories in that casa. Happy memories in that city.

[Two Tunes Tuesday: Techno & Country.]

Calvin Harris' "Feel So Close" and Jake Owen's "Alone With You" aren't exactly complementary, thematically or aurally...yet here they are in all their glory, two songs that have been filling my ears lately. Everyone can relate to at least one of them, right? The first is the closest I get to techno (i.e. not very), the second is pretty standard country fare. I know I'm from L.A., but country is probably the genre I love and listen to the most. I blame my myriad of nannies from bizarre places like Utah or Idaho or Colorado. I was brainwashed, I tell you! Brainwashed!

[Lego!]

And then the red one moves away anyway.

image

[Little lessons, lately.]

Hey hi. Have kind of neglected this masterpiece recently. Busy makin' moves, you know?

Some lessons learned, lately: 

1. Clear your search history if you've recently searched for "adult stores DC" to avoid red-faced, "It was for a bridal shower, I swear! No, really. Really!!" explanations when a guy borrows your phone at church. Yep. Just as embarrassing as it sounds. 

2. Things don't always heal. Sometimes they just scab. And then the scab gets scratched off, and you bleed, and then scab again, over and over and over again. And you go through a lot of bandaids. And you get used to the loss of blood.

3. Only go running in your neighorhood right after work if you are comfortable being seen in sweat and spandex by basically everyone you know. It's me at my best, people, so aim to be walking home from work between 5:30 and 6 for a literal hot mess sighting.

4. It is entirely possible (and right) to subsist on only Girl Scout cookies for over 24 hours. Samoas and Tagalongs, specifically. It is also possible to go through an entire sleeve of Thin Mints in the time it takes you to walk from the metro, where you purchased the cookies, to your house, two blocks away.

5. Being in bed for 17 hours straight on a rare free night will simultaneously make you feel like a princess and a schlub, and will result in a back ache and a NyQuil hangover. But nights off are good. Dating is tiring. How do you all do this all the time?? I don't get it.

6. Boys who like Star Wars as much as I do are wonderful. Gets me every. single. time.

7. Dubstep is not, in fact, a dance move. I only recently (two days ago) became cool enough to know this.

8. No matter how much mental energy you direct towards the roots of your hair, you will remain bald. Growwww. Grooowwwww!! 

9. If you wear it often enough, the roomies eventually will stop noticing the omnipresent tiara on your head, as will you.

[Two Tunes Tuesday: Cults & Awolnation.]

These have been filling my ears for the last couple of beautiful DC days. First one by way of Perez (not ashamed), second thanks to Trev. Enjoy!

[RyGos, I would never treat you like this.]

For fans of RyGos, Drive, general good lookingness...

[Pancake hearts.]

Slowly but surely making my way back into the kitchen...this time with heart-shaped lemon ricotta pancakes. I don't really like pancakes or lemon-flavored things, but I do like heart-shaped food, bowls, and baking utensils. And I was cooking for someone other than myself, AND it was February, so...it all made sense at the time. It was a lovely dinner and evening, but guys...it felt so forced... I only cook for the ones I love, you know? (You know. You've seen.) I guess I don't yet love cooking just for the joy of cooking. Won't be trying that again anytime soon. Regardless, the pancakies were delish, and now that they are tucked away in my teeny tiny cooking repertoire, they will be replicated this weekend for Shannon, a lady I do love, in celebration of her recent engagement!! Aaaaah!

 


n.b. I should clarify that baking with someone is not the same as cooking for someone. K?

[Dark hair and light hair.]

This is just really lovely and tragic and perfect. Like this life, right?

(some language. not for the faint of ears.)

via Becca

 

After a while, you learn the subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul

And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning, and company doesn't mean security

And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts, and presents aren't promises

And you begin to accept your defeats with your head up and your eyes open

And you learn to build all your roads on today

Because tomorrows ground us, too uncertain for plans

And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight

After a while you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much

So you plant your garden and decorate your own soul

Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers

And you learn that you really can endure

That you really are strong

And you really do have worth

 

And you learn and learn

With every goodbye, you learn

After A While by Veronica A. Shoffstall

[Two Tunes Tuesday: Wye Oak & Morrissey.]

These two.