Work In Progress

I love being horribly straightforward. I love sending reckless text messages (because how reckless can a form of digitized communication be?) and telling people I love them and telling people they are absolutely magical humans and I cannot believe they really exist. I love saying, “Kiss me harder,” and “You’re a good person,” and, “You brighten my day.” I live my life as straight-forward as possible.
Because one day, I might get hit by a bus.
Maybe it’s weird. Maybe it’s scary. Maybe it seems downright impossible to just be—to just let people know you want them, need them, feel like, in this very moment, you will die if you do not see them, hold them, touch them in some way whether its your feet on their thighs on the couch or your tongue in their mouth or your heart in their hands.
But there is nothing more beautiful than being desperate.

And there is nothing more risky than pretending not to care.

We are young and we are human and we are beautiful and we are not as in control as we think we are. We never know who needs us back. We never know the magic that can arise between ourselves and other humans.
We never know when the bus is coming."

- Rachel C. Lewis,


For Nights When You Need a Light House

Little rusty...let's take it a litttttllleee  easy on me eh...
Dusting myself off.

After college, I had accepted that fact that things were never going to be that way again.  The same way every student realizes that the consistency of the past four are inconsistent with the new. The expiration date comes and you've got to go. 

You laugh when they tell you you wont be ready, and cry when they make you.
I'm old enough to understand I know absolutely nothing......except this: you are going to stress yourself out. You are definitely going to have a certain degree of a meltdown. You will go through waves of self loathe and moments of peace. You will literally go through tidal waves of chaotic confusion. I dont know if it was my first job (gateway to hell), or when fall showed up and reminded me of brick roads and the smell of my favorite Miami sweaty bar.... but I literally was touching fray ends of electrical cords. 
One of my soul sisters,  who only is a year older, but 20 years wiser told me this:  Nothing.makes.sense when you're 23 and 24. You will cry, stress out, and then you need to laugh it off. 
That girl didn't know how right she was.

One  other small thing that saved me... while I was in college,  every time I found or saw something that interested me whether it was an assignment,  a lecture, person, article, blog, location, book, hidden library spot, something chiseled in a desk, etc.. I would write it down and find out why it intrigued me. I bought myself a tiny notebook and I carried it with me everywhere. ..literally.. . everywhere.... my friends laughed at me for how weird I was about it.

 I would forget my ID before I would forget my notebook.

I still have it. Oh yeah, I carry it around with me like it's some sort of roadmap. It's pages of complete randomness: quotes, names, my favorite dog breed, short passages in books, tidbits of conversations I've heard (where did ya think accolades One, Two and Three came from) Anything that made my ears perk would be written in my notebook

I never read through it until I was trapped in the car between two broad shouldered brothers, and nothing but corn fields for five hours.

But being their arm rest left me with nothing to do but read. That little leather binded notebook... saved me.
It's. how. I. got. here.

never believed it more so than now you land in certain places, at certain times, to meet certain people, to change certain things. You will go places or do things throughout that time that hit you differently, but remind you of something or someone. The first time I stepped on my college campus was the first time I knew I would be ok being far(ish) from home, and I could do it. There was an instinctual feeling about being in Oxford that made my heart pound. The same instincts I feel now living in a new city. I felt that same heart race when I got to New York. Reminders, are everywhere. The things I wrote down, the things I once noticed, the things that surrounded me everyday that I've always loved. I find them here, they make me... find me  

My best advice is to pay attention. The pages I wrote are .dots. to roadmaps. The snippets I wrote looks like organized chaos that makes no sense-- until it starts to make sense. If you go and search for the randomness that intrigues you-- it finds you right back. 

If you always have it together, and if you got everything you wanted early in the game, you would get bored.

Be hungry, foolish, write, scribble and laugh when you lose your sanity.

Dedicated .You. know who you are. 



I saw this. And thought it was a nice way to start again:


New air always makes me think of is a time of possibilities.

The first time I wrote about the seasons changing it was senior year of college. And although a lot has changed since--it makes me feel good to know that so much hasn't as well.

You can change rooms, homes, locations, occupations, cities, etc... but there are small signs of familiarity nestled in the nooks and cracks of our bones. And once in awhile they remind us of something/someone that is different but still the same.

Lately, I've been getting caught. I'll be walking and all of a sudden a breeze will whistle through the air. I can smell that same smell that I've known and loved sense I could think back. The quite hum of seasons shifting. It's only August in New York, and the intense humidity is still infecting our once straight hair. But when I get a hint of it--  I can't help but smile. I remind myself of going back to school. Running around campus-- seeing everyong I missed for the summer. Sweating out cocktail and making laps at the bars I had history with. I remember football seasons and banners lining up High Street. Sylabus week. Class crushes. New faces. Old faces.

High school in the fall was the same way. The leaves would change and all of a sudden, things were romantized. It was strangely cliched and unnervingly true. We rode around in cars with the windows down, screaming the summer songs that were over played. We would kiss our glows goodbye and bring in the bottom half to our pants.

I walk around New York. I see little kids hold their parents hands. They dance on the sidewalks and glitter with excitement over an ice cream cone. But i love that my excitement over the possibilities of a new season can match there still. They have more than half their lives ahead of them. We have more than half our lives a head of us. It's great to know that some of the best days of our lives haven't even begun yet. The end of summer is approaching. Fall is in the air. Happy New Beginnings.

"There are two types of people in the world: those who think they're normal and those who know there's no such thing.”

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