9.28.10

How to write about Pavement.

time for.

It was ideal apple-eating weather; the whitest sunlight descended from the purest sky, and an easterly wind rustled, without ripping loose, the last of the leaves on the Chinese elms. (Truman Capote, In Cold Blood).

Smitten with Mittens - the dark wine colored nail polish I save up for when the air turns crisper.

Being able to go on runs in the middle of the day.

Macintosh apples.

Pumpkin and cream cheese cookie combinations.

Learning fractions.

Getting caught crying at commercials.

A new season of Dexter!

Kissssing.

Kissing.

J. Crew catalog. Jenna Lyons is a bonafide genuis in my book.

Almonds.

Crystallized, The xx.

You and Me, Dave Matthews Band.

Murder in the City, Avett Brothers.

9.26.10

I write to find out what I think.

(Joan Didion).

my life be like.

I've been thinking about something lately.

Imagine this:

You're on an airplane, sleeping with your head against the window, your heart set on being home this time three hours from now. All of a sudden, something goes very wrong. The plane stops moving across the air and instead starts falling through it. The lights are flickering and the movie is skipping. The plane dips hundreds of feet in seconds, and the yellow cups fall from the ceiling. They're a brighter shade of yellow than you remember, because unlike the demonstration, these cups have never been handled before. "Flight attendants take your seats now", you hear, the pilot's voice trembling over a cacophony of alert tones. You get that smell in the bridge of your nose like you've just been hit with a football. That's what the fear smells like. The plane is going down.

Four more drastic drops in under a minute. People are crying. For all the folklore about how your life flashes before your eyes, you're remarkably fixed on one vision - your parents. They're sleeping at this very moment, in a bedroom so quiet they can hear the clock in the kitchen. And you can see them, clear as can be. You wish you could see a playground or a first kiss, but all you can see is your parents sleeping. Huh. Well, that's that.

Several long minutes go by. Then, all at once, the lights come back on and the plane somehow rights itself. Some people cheer, but most people cry harder. The plane lands about an hour later, and as soon as you feel that touch down - hell, even when you were within 50 feet of the ground and could still technically survive a fall - you realize that however you brokered the deal between you and God worked; you've just been granted life in overtime.

Here's the question: what do you change? Whom do you call that you haven't spoken to in years? Whom do you realize has been toxic to your heart and drop with surprising ease? What trips do you cancel, and what trips do you book? What can't you be bothered with anymore? What's the new you like?

Think about that, and then ask one more question. Why not just change it all right now?

(Working on it...)

My freshmen year of college I religiously read celebrity blogs. I even saved the good ones, like the one above by John Mayer, in a Word Document. Yup.

I watched a Buried Life marathon on MTV. There is something so genuine about it.

I went to church with my grandmother.

I was inspired enough by my boyfriend to spend an early Saturday morning at a food pantry. Where I start to see that when you have your self, you have absolutely everything you'll ever need.

I hit the seven mile run mark thanks to beautiful weather, exploring where I live and my recent download of Flo Rida's Club Can't Handle Me Right Now.

(this is stuff that makes me)

Take a deep breath.

Life is so, so short.

I always forget.

So on repeat.

Life is so, so short.

Don't waste it.

Especially on stressing out about how to figure it out for you, you, you, you.

i disagree with you, but i'm pretty sure you're not hitler.

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Rally to Restore Sanity
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor Tea Party

Thank God for Jon Stewart.

done in earnest.

Walker and I experienced a moment in church last night which we decided can only be described in terms of Napoleon Dynamite. Love the movie or hate the movie, the thing that made it stand out were these painfully bizarre moments performed in absolute earnestness.

Two Hispanic girls in identical, floor-length jean skirts singing worship songs in Spanish, with the occasional there is none but you, Jesus thrown out in English, while one accompanied by playing outer space music on her Casio keyboard. Meanwhile, a woman in the audience banged and jangled on a tambourine as if she were accompanying Moroccan belly dancers.

It was done with such oblivious heart and conviction, that somehow it worked. It was moving. It kind of made you realize these are the completely uncontrived moments to live for.

p.s.

Boardwalk Empire seems promising judging from the first episode.

Pictures above found here. I just liked 'em.

9.20.10

I'm living so far beyond my income that we may almost be said to be living apart.

- e e cummings.

thrills. chills. goosebumps. butterflies.

situations in which you agonize over what to wear.

On Saturday Walker and I headed to Kansas City to spend the day with Kelly Sheline and to see Pavement.

It was pretty wonderful: a delicious bruschetta and shrimp salad lunch, a frenzied search for a bar where we could settle in to watch the OU game resulting in us stumbling upon Walker's dream scenario (imagine heated screaming matches over what restaurant in town has the best barbecue sauce), eating way, way, way too much (brisket, ribs, "burnt ends") at Gates, finally sipping on a Boulevard and getting to marvel at the Uptown Theatre which is just the kind of setting I want all my birthday parties, wedding and funeral to be in, super neat.

I really like Kansas City. I really like every city.

Despite having one of the most awe-inspiring breadths of musical knowledge and collection, Walker Robins is decidedly and firmly not hip. In fact, the guy spent most of the trip going on and on about Lil' Wayne's upcoming, once free from prison, collab with Tech N9ne while sporting a Tech N9ne t-shirt.

He came with me.

And I certainly came down with some anxiety. What am I doing here? People die over Pavement. They own biographical books and every EP. My favorite band is Wilco and my favorite artist is Bruce Springsteen and I can't stop listening to Punch Brother's Antifogmatic album and I'm torn between the juxtaposition of Katy Perry's video for Teenage Dream and Taylor Swift's for Mine. I feel like such a poser.

But Stephen Malkmus in an over-sized Chiefs jersey was just too perfect for me to have ever thought of passing up on.

Pavement is Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain is Stephen Malkmus solo is Silver Jews is being mesmerized by every tangled aspect of living life is seeing things and thinking things differently is junior year of high school and Nate Arnold moving in down the street with all of his great music and though it wasn't like I didn't like music before, it was literally like a light being turned on, this is what I want out of music.

Spit On A Stranger, Pavement.

september.

only a fifth of a second before that you were a small kid with a ten-week summer vacation that lasted a hundred thousand years and still ended too soon

- Joseph Heller, Catch-22.

i'm going to wichita.

In between my shifts at The Wedge and Walker's mountain of reading, we headed to the Wichita Mountains for a festive Labor Day weekend hike that involved getting up early (!!!), prarie dogs (!!!), boulder bouncing, constant bramble leg scratches, getting lost, a big-man-in-leather-gloves old fashioned wilderness scare, and pushing Walker out of the way in my hysteric haste to avoid a snake.

Characteristically, we were soooo hungry and thirsty mid-hike that we pushed through to the end by dreaming of lemonade and the famous Meers hamburgers.

However, Meers was insanely crowded, so we ended up strolling around the adorably quirky and cobblestoned Medicine Park sampling hot dogs and listening to blues by the swimming hole. Our favorite hot dog came from Santa's Snack Shop (see the picture of "Santa" grilling out in his Hawiian shirt behind me. I avoided interaction at all costs).

There was this newly married couple I took a climbing class with when I worked for a summer in Jackson Hole, Wyoming - they had just moved there from Virginia so they could take monster hikes on the weekends and reward themselves with cold beers afterwards. And I remember thinking that was a nice idea to construct a life around.

{I also discovered I am awful at rock climbing. Ugh.}

So, the Wichita's are really neat. Kind of like where all the Oklahoma classics combine into one super beautiful spot.

Seven Nation Army, The White Stripes.

The Distance, Cake.

never was a cornflake girl. thought that was a good solution. hanging with the raisin girls.

When I look back at this period of my life I hope I refer to it as the "Cereal Period."

I literally go through three bowls of Kellog's cornflakes per day.

And I can't help but wonder if this has some sort of greater significance, because I've never been much of cereal person before this. In fact, I distinctly remember coming home from Australia and craving cereal for the first time in years.

And cereal does seem fitting for taking my sweet time, easing and sometimes resisting transition, having my bike stolen, dealing with rejection, the perfect meal after a particularly grueling spin class, attempting to divine the meaning of life from Gilmore Girls episodes and generally feeling puzzled by the way the world seems to work and my attempts at shaping my own destiny.

Cornflake Girl, Tori Amos.