let it be known

“It is a sacred duty for all the fathers and mothers of the world to forbid coffee to their children with great severity, if they do not wish to produce dried-up little monsters, stunted and old before they are twenty.” ––Brillat-Savarin

As a wee child, I would only drink my milk if it had a bit of tication in it. Pure milk and espresso. No sugar. I could taste the bitterness. I savored it. The kind of bitterness that comes from something like that first sip of coffee after a sugary dessert. Or the darkest chocolate, when it stops being and becomes cocao.

Withered up and stunted have I been for ages now.

my little d

i miss you too, sweetpea…

grow things out of reach

That in which we find our solace.

For the majority of my adult life, I have lived alone. Can I pause a moment to remark that I’m old enough to say “majority of my adult life?” Kind of momentous considering I spent my past birthday refusing to acknowledge my actual age but rather reduced it down to a simple equation.

I’ve had one roommate, ever- freshman year of undergrad. Never have I felt the brunt of sharing a room with a sibling even. Looking back, it was a great experience but I certainly was awkward through most of it. Sharing my space has never been an easy feat for me. The actual act of disruption around me is highly uncomfortable. Still. I like things in their place. I like my routines. Luckily for us, there existed that invisible line running between the room.

When I was younger, I hated being alone. I suspect it had a lot to do with growing up in an extended family that was constantly around and vehemently vested in everything. Naturally stemming out of love. So in those rare moments when I’d find myself alone, I’d be nervous and almost scared. There was this pervasive fear that I couldn’t take care of the situation should it get out of hand. Time has changed that quite dramatically.

I like where I am right now. My apartment is comfortable and cozy. My bookshelves house the tomes that have felt the wipes of my fingertips and have heard the laughter and sighs. Pictures of my family and friends line the walls. The safest corner of my studio is my alcove, with its east facing windows and Tibetan prayer flags and rosaries guarding the bed. Late Saturday mornings spent in bed with the sunlight shining through sheer curtains are quite possibly my absolute favorite times spent there. The fresh hydrangeas sitting on the unused dinner table because how can you be miserable in a room with fresh flowers?

Every decision has been mine and mine alone, because I’m everywhere I look and I’m looking right back.

world, 3 things…

i just realized that if i were mummy right now, i’d be:

1. married with a 1and half year old daughter
2. raising said daughter alone while her husband was on the other side of the world
3. the principal of a primary school

meanwhile, i can barely find time to clean my apartment or do laundry.

today at work:

1. i got a flu shot. my arm is sore.
2. i got flowers! the florist who decorates our office was in the lobby cutting hydrangeas and i remarked at how lovely they were and without missing a breath he hands me a bunch. so lovely and sweet! they’re making my desk so much more inviting.
3. i got the new keane, jack’s mannequin & rachael yamagata. and i’m going to see ‘13 the musical’ tomorrow.

it’s been a good day.

the swell season

I walked from dinner with the girls in the Meatpacking district all the way to his door, pulse racing and with no music streaming through my ears. Just me and my thoughts. Though looking back, I couldn’t voice what those thoughts were. Everything was tinted with nervous anticipation. This nervousness I’m so used to feeling still baffles me as I know how well it goes between us. We go well together, but only in these fleeting moments.

The same sense of urgency that has stalked our previous encounters was buzzing through the air. The street lamps fell in slivers into the darkened room. It was quiet, it’s always quiet. Arms intertwined, whispered words, legs tangled and sheets rumpled. I didn’t remember him looking as well as he did. I do remember the scent of his cologne. I had forgotten how soft his skin was. I loved that our pulses synced up.

In the unnerving stillness, he broke it.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this.

- What?

This, you and me and this.

- What does that mean? Should I feel bad about this?

No. I just. I want to be honest with you.

- I don’t know what that means. It doesn’t matter.”

It does matter, because I matter. He took something good and tainted it with disrespect. The least invested is always the one in control. I care(d) too much, still. I miss him. I miss a season. A season that comes with time that I will swear not to revel in and will find myself in anticipation of. This is what happens when you live the year in the hopes of fall.

“Should we hold hands?

We can’t.

But why?

Because, people will know.

Know what?

About us.
So what if they know?

It’s better when it’s a secret.

Why?

So no one can take it from us.”

- Nicole Krauss (The History of Love)

take a chance…

in treatment

i see you the way you are (what do you see? because as of late two things have become apparent, which i’ve begun the process to rectify, the first being that there is a disparity between what you see and what i see. secondly, neither is wrong, it’s just that i’m shielding more than i should. i can sincerely say that i had worked on that but lost my grip somewhere along the way. i’m not worried though, seems i’ve found it again. it’s exhausting to hide.) , even your imperfections (and are there plenty?! i’m beginning to see that they aren’t so bad. this is different than the complacency that had fooled me into submission in previous years. i notice them, acknowledge them, and ultimately can rely on the fact that i’ve survived, albeit not always gracefully, but i’m good where i am. i’ve come a long way, baby.). you’re not at ease with your body (i don’t know that i’ll ever be completely at ease with my body, there will always be something to fix. and that’s the point, isn’t it? there will always be something and if it seems that life and most everyone else seems to have their opinions anyway, why bother?), your profession (this, currently, is not my profession. it’s a stepping stone until i figure out what i choose to do with my life. it is to tide me over, and pay my rent, until my niche is found. i choose my choice!), who you’ve become (considering there was a point when becoming didn’t seem to be an option, this is pretty fucking rad.)…i imagine you’re not happy at home (sometimes the silence is deafening. i’m fairly certain my neighbor’s cat will find a way into my apt via the fire escape. the construction will never end outside my bedroom window. but i have an air conditioner now, so things have begun to look up already! changing the view will not fix anything.). something in you is damaged (it’s been damaged by others, mainly and unfortunately by me but these bruises serve as reminders for life. these scars and pains are proof that at least i’m living.), restless (you say restless, i say passionate and curious.), there’s a yearning in there (always has been, there is one thing that everything else seems to be in preparation for.). and i know it when i see it (this is one thing I’ve never hidden.). and i want you (me too.)…warts (umm…) and all (for better, for worse.).

i’m at a loss…

challenge and growth…

comfort and warmth…

bounding spring

follow your bliss.

seek solace in your self.

find your fulfillment.

from ny, in the rain…

1/12

January has been a very eventful month. Filled with the requisite good and bad that accompanies all life; that bears repeating I think.

- I have the fortune of working in a place that allows for jeans everyday. To remind myself that I am growing up, not only have I been dressing up but have also been forgoing my Uggs for pointy toed, properly heeled shoes.

- I did something quite brave, I told someone I loved him. In the least dramatic of ways, I looked him in the eyes and opened up. He looked back, hugged me and said nothing.

- And in the most dramatic of ways, my best-friend flew across the country to take care of me.

- Since the first, I’ve read 4 books:

1. The History of Love – Nicole Krauss; I have this weird thing about the first book I begin a year with.

2. Eat, Pray, Love – Elizabeth Gilbert; Mummy had been pestering me about this.

3. Maynard & Jennica – Rudolph Delson; I’ve had this obsessive connection with Emma Bovary (Madame Bovary) and had yet to find another female character who spoke to me. Not only did I find a new character, but Jennica too has the same kindred draw to Emma. I also wrote to the author about how much I loved his work but more than that, how excited I had been to read it. If you’re the cause of so much excitement, wouldn’t you want to know?

4. Water for Elephants  – Sara Gruen

- I’ve been told repeatedly that I have a problem with forgiving people. In that spirit of needing a distraction, I forgave someone who repeated his offense.  Maybe I don’t have a problem with it after all.

- It’s been a phenomenal music month (in order of excited-ness) : Cat Power, Nada Surf, Chris Walla, Jack Johnson…it helps that I work in the music industry.

- On a related note, I figured out why I adore Cat Power so much. She writes such amazing words but is terribly unsure of herself. I’ve yet to see her live, but have read that she is painfully shy on stage and her voice rarely gets above a whisper. I understand that. Everything is an exercise in self-improvement.

-  Everyday is at minimum a 10 hour work day. 50 hours spent in my sunless office. Despite this tiredness, despite the exhausting reality of domestic responsibility, I feel good. I’ve always known that I’m capable of doing my work, but it hasn’t been until lately that I’m confident at it. I answer with certainty and more importantly say NO. I still feel bad about saying it but baby steps.

- I tried PinkBerry, despite the repeated warnings of my friends and family that I would NOT enjoy it. They were right and I want my $5 back!