Saturday, January 30, 2010

like you imagined when you were young.

J.D. Salinger died.
File him, along with songs by Ben Folds and San Francisco beat poetry, in the category of things I felt so strong and deeply in high school when the world was infinitely nuanced and I was hyper emotional.
They don't mean as much to me now.
Their meaning only derived from the fact that they once meant so much to me.
But, of course, that's what makes his work all the more profound.
More meaningful.
More of a triumphant achievement in literature.

p.s. I'm pretty much convinced clean, commercial, unvarnished copies of his books don't exist. Maybe an Indie conspiracy only adding to the legend.

So some quotes from his books I oncethought/stillthink were the be all and end all:

You can't live in the world with such strong likes and dislikes.
(Franny and Zooey).

Seymour'd told me to shine my shoes just as I was going out the door with Waker. I was furious. The studio audience were all morons, the announcer was a moron, the sponsors were morons, and I just damn well wasn't going to shine my shoes for them, I told Seymour. I said they couldn't see them anyway, where we sat. He said to shine them anyway. He said to shine them for the Fat Lady. I didn't know what the hell he was talking about, but he had a very Seymour look on his face, and so I did it. He never did tell me who the Fat Lady was, but I shined my shoes for the Fat Lady every time I ever went on the air again — all the years you and I were on the program together, if you remember. I don't think I missed more than just a couple of times. This terribly clear, clear picture of the Fat Lady formed in my mind. I had her sitting on this porch all day, swatting flies, with her radio going full-blast from morning till night. I figured the heat was terrible, and she probably had cancer, and — I don't know. Anyway, it seemed goddam clear why Seymour wanted me to shine my shoes when I went on the air. It made sense.
I'll tell you a terrible secret — Are you listening to me? There isn't anyone out there who isn't Seymour's Fat Lady. That includes your Professor Tupper, buddy. And all his goddam cousins by the dozens. There isn't anyone anywhere that isn't Seymour's Fat Lady. Don't you know that? Don't you know that goddam secret yet? And don't you know — listen to me, now — don't you know who that Fat Lady really is? . . . Ah, buddy. Ah, buddy. It's Christ Himself. Christ Himself, buddy.
(Franny and Zooey).

But while I was sitting down, I saw something that drove me crazy. Somebody'd written "Fuck you" on the wall. It drove me damn near crazy. I thought how Phoebe and all the other little kids would see it, and how they'd wonder what the hell it meant, and then finally some dirty kid would tell them – all cockeyed, naturally – what it meant, and how they'd all think about it and maybe even worry about it for a couple of days. I kept wanting to kill whoever'd written it. I figured it was some perverty bum that'd sneaked in the school late at night to take a leak or something and then wrote it on the wall. I kept picturing myself catching him at it, and how I'd smash his head on the stone steps till he was good and goddam dead and bloody. But I knew, too, I wouldn't have the guts to do it. I knew that. That made me even more depressed. I went down by a different staircase, and I saw another "Fuck you" on the wall. I tried to rub it off with my hand, but this one was scratched on, with a knife or something. It wouldn't come off. It was hopeless, anyway. If you had a million years to do it in, you couldn't rub out even half the "Fuck you" signs in the world. It's impossible. That's the whole trouble. You can't ever find a place that's nice and peaceful, because there isn't any. You may think there is, but once you get there, when you're not looking, somebody'll sneak up and write "Fuck you" right under your nose.
(Catcher in the Rye).

Monday, January 25, 2010

and you're kind.

All I ask is one thing. And I ask this particularly of young people that watch: please do not be cynical. I hate cynicism for the record. It's my least favorite quality. It doesn't lead anywhere. Nobody in life gets exactly what they thought they were going to get. But if you work really hard and you're kind. I'm telling you. Amazing things will happen.
- Conan O'Brien

My Image Spark is my new favorite thing. I save any image I find inspiration from - especially the beautiful photos taken by my cousin Sandra Sears - onto my desktop until it becomes such a cluttered and unlabeled mess I have to pull it all into the trash. Hence, though still a work in process, I love this site and the ability to visualize and organize all my little whims of inspiration.

Friday, January 22, 2010

I Want To Go To There.

Top image proves I was there in Flat Stanley-esque spirit - best present ever ever ever ever.

Walker went to South America and ALL OF HIS PICTURES ARE SO COOL - CHECK THEM OUT.

So I'm new at this. And it's cheesy. But one of the all-time greatest butterfly moments is when you're waiting and waiting and waiting and all of a sudden you finally see your boyfriend come around the corner of the airport. He's home!

Thursday, January 21, 2010

You're Gonna Make It After All.

I feel like the last 12+ months of my life I have been the equivalent of a chicken running around with its head cut off. No sense of place or purpose - just sheer panic. I literally think I've entertained every country, every city, every career, every standardized test, every salary, every two bit job, every school...

And geez, you really can be deterred from anything and everything. It seems every career, etc. has a doomsday outlook for those that dare embark upon it - further resolve that you've really got to have faith in yourself to get things done. Otherwise, if the internet is to be believed, I don't think anything would ever get accomplished. And on the flip side, if it were easy everyone would do it.
(Hence the Mary Tyler Moore inspiration).

It is much easier to not be scared off by reality if you are calm and focused.

And all of a sudden I feel at peace. Kind of Nathanial Hawthorne-ish, "Happiness is like a butterfly which, when pursued, is always beyond our grasp, but, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you."
I know what I want to do. Certainty.
So the hardest part is over with.

Now it's just - time.
And infinite patience.
I think I'm okay with this.
In the fifth grade, my Mom used to take me to the Paper Lion about twice a month to buy a new beanie baby (I was obsessed, to put it mildly). When I asked her why she couldn't just buy all of the beanies for me during one trip, I vividly remember my mom laughing for a long time and telling me that wouldn't be nearly as much fun. Good allegory for life, right - if it all came together at once, it wouldn't be as much fun.

My Matey-Mate is leaving for South Africa for six months. I'm so proud. I'm so sad.
The wood floors in my room are wonderful.
My "Mac Genius" was awesome - he sweetly commiserated with me for way longer than necessary over the agonizing decision to either make costly repairs to my old, beloved 12-inch powerbook or invest in a new laptop in fear that she'll crash in 6 months anyway. Thanks for getting me Apple.
Massachusetts, I'm a little crestfallen and heartbroken.

Trouble Come Running, Spoon.
Walking On Broken Glass, Annie Lennox
Penny on the Train Track, Ben Kweller
The Kiss, Last of the Mohicans
Hello, Beyonce
Dance Music, The Mountain Goats

Monday, January 18, 2010

Ray Lamontagne, Be Here Now.

don't let your mind get weary and confused
your will be still, don't try
don't let your heart get heavy child
inside you there's a strength that lies
don't let your soul get lonely child
it's only time, it will go by
don't look for love in faces, places
it's in you, that's where you'll find kindness
be here now, here now
be here now, here now
don't lose your faith in me
and I will try not to lose faith in you
don't put your trust in walls
'cause walls will only crush you when they fall
be here now, here now
be here now, here now

Friday, January 15, 2010

{courtesy of hilton hotels} travel should take you places. travel is more than just a to b. travel should inspire big ideas.

aloha. photos from hawaii.
not photo'd: me presenting my paper. whew, it's over with! learned so much. and hopefully now i can only improve.

i'm pretty much a huge fan of any place where 80 degree weather is the norm, really good fruit is readily available and flowers burst from every crack and crevice.

but big thanks to patty and anthony (meg's andrew's family) (hi patty if you're reading this!) for showing us how the locals do it:
insider tour of every kid's dreamland and barack's alma mater: punahou school.
the best vietnamese food.
hawaiian shaved ice.
auntie susu and paige. signing the door.
paths leading to kailua beach.
japanese pear.
home tour.
breathtaking views.

the architecture.
pineapple pizza.
pillows you melt into.
lost set.
morning waikiki walks.
pina colada.
finished reading: Wait Until Next Year, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and In the Woods. scary good.
that pervasive honeysuckle smell.

imagine my mom and i boarding a seven hour flight straight from an afternoon at the beach: hair tangled, semi-wet bathing suits we're still wearing underneath our clothes, sand spilling out of our shoes and sunscreen smelling skin. yeah.

Sunday, January 10, 2010

Travel Writing.

Oh my God, the place we were at today was UNBELIEVABLE. Look up Cabo Polonio to see if you can find anything. Our bus dropped us off basically by the side of the road at a place that looked like a salvage yard. We found a little stand and bought entry to the national park and got driven to the beach in safari cars.

At the beach was the teeniest, most quaint little beach town I´ve ever seen. It looks like a Hollywood set. I don´t think there´s any electricity, and the town´s just basically a collection of little shacks and lean-tos, although there is a pretty big lighthouse. We got to get really close to sea lions and Miley and I summited a really big sand dune. It´s hard to put into words how awesome it was, so I´ll just do so by comparison...

Our bus was thirty minutes late picking us up from the side of the road. When we got on, all the seats were taken except two in the back. When I walked to those seats, a guy informed me someone had puked in them. So, while Miley and Salvie stood in the aisle of the bus, I sat between the bus restroom and the vomit seats. Now, how awesome was Cabo Polonio? It was as awesome as that sucked.

(Walker Robins).


Growing up in a family of "snow" people, I've never been anywhere tropical/islandy before.
But tomorrow I leave for Hawaii to present my senior thesis paper. Wish me luck, it feels like I wrote the thing five years ago.

Even though it's not technically a vacation, I've been daydreaming about the beach and warm weather for weeks now and while trolling the web for anything reminiscent, I fell in love with this dress, only to quickly realize it's actually a jumpsuit.

Which changed my entire opinion of the look. Can't decide what I think about the whole jumpsuit/romper trend.

Friday, January 8, 2010

to moonbombs and moonbeams.

Image via etsy found on okc local i am a greedy girl.

What a good 23rd birthday.

I know people pretty universally dislike the month of January - especially with it being so brrrrrrrrrrr. Some might even call it dreary, blah.

And I think that's why I've always felt this unspoken kinship with others born in January.
There's something that binds us together, the common experience of growing up knowing you'll never get to have your birthday at an outdoor swimming pool or frontier city or that when Christmas and New Years pass you still have an upcoming reason to celebrate. My January people. (This includes Nigella Lawson, Kahlil Gibran and Joan of Arc - all born on January 6th).

Saturday, January 2, 2010


Necklace completely designed and made by Meg.
Pretty much the neatest thing ever. I'm in awe of my sister. And miss her already.

Okay, so I finished the true story Where Men Win Glory: the Odyssey of Pat Tillman (wish it had a better title) and came to the conclusion that it should be required reading for every, single American.
Never have I been so heartbroken, angry, aghast, disturbed, helpless, scared, humbled and deeply depressed in the throes of reading something - and never have I closed the back cover of a book feeling so passionate about politics and about humanity. A lot of emotion that I'm not quite sure how to channel into something positive and productive yet.
But seriously, Pat Tilman is one of those classic, deeply complex Krakauer characters that make you reexamine your own life. What happened to him, and arguably Afghanistan at the expense of Iraq, in the hands of U.S. military and political leaders will make you, should make you, scream.

One of my best friends in the entire world, since the 6th grade - Michelle Renee Worden - is engaged!
I remember a wise man, Wil Norton, once said whoever married Michelle would be the luckiest guy, because he'd get to have so much fun for-ev-er. So true.
My favorite couple - Skylar Anderson and Meredith Roskamp - also got engaged!
Pretty much, I'm so happy for everyone.