brightness. back with me.

The weeks have been bright. There was pulling off the surprise for the best party for my best friend with her best friends:

troop_beverlisa_hills

Then there was a perfect Missoula trip for work:

lisa_andrew_M_trail_new_crop_2hipster_van

One of the nights in Missoula, I ended a wine/inspiration/gossip-fueled dinner at one of my favorite restaurants with a colleague and decided I should probably go to the Death Cab for Cutie show that was happening at the university. I didn’t exactly want to, since I had to be up early for a sunrise hike up the M. And also, I didn’t want to be that old lady sitting in the back of a stadium by herself at a concert, maybe falling asleep and definitely hating every person on their phone. I asked if we should get more wine, trying to give myself an out on skipping the concert. We decided enough on the wine.

I asked my friend to drop me off [she was not interested in the concert], telling her I would just walk to the hotel afterwards. I handed a nice man my ticket as I heard the drowned out version of “Crooked Teeth” and I was immediately brought back to one of my favorite college apartments and so excited.

I loved that song. I love that song. I loved every one of Death Cab for Cutie’s songs. Turns out, I love every one of Death Cab for Cutie’s songs.

I sat by myself, in the dark, singing along, crying a little bit, which was to be expected. I’m a crier. But then I cried more and a bit more. I cried, because love. Because college. Because life. Because of relationships—broken and bright alike.

Because of who I was and who I am. I cried because of how these songs shoved me hard in the chest, knocking the wind out of me, waking me up, back in my late teens and early twenties. And I cried because here they were waking me up again, leaving me gasping for air again. Remember it all.

And as I let these damn songs creep back into the open cracks in my chest and find their meaning in my life today. I had had the pleasure of not associating any of these angsty songs with my relationship with Evan. And then as this song came on and I remembered our recent promise to one another, I just lost it. Dammit, Ben Gibbard.

And then I realized just how much I love the new[est] album. I really had no idea. The concert ended, I clapped as hard as I cried, and I walked over the bridge in the dark in Missoula, thanking all the stars for aligning and encouraging.

Lately, back in Bozeman, we’ve been peering excitedly into the future as Evan started nursing school today. He has—mostly unrelatedly—been listening to the new[est] Death Cab for Cutie album on repeat the past week. I’ve been coming home to a husband at home [which is a treat in itself] listening to this song.

Last night, we listened to the album before and after seeing David Sedaris speak… again. He made us laugh so hard and then afterwards, while signing our book, he talked to us about doctor’s seeing his ass. We loved it. We treasured our time. Bright times.

david_sedaris_ass

So to celebrate these bright times and Evan’s first day of nursing school—complete with a freak blizzard and a town-wide blackout and a photo that I just cannot stop looking at—I decided to walk over to our local record store to buy Kintsugi on vinyl for him… for us.

I came home and excitedly kissed my husband, gave him the record, and poured us both a glass of wine. He loved the album and I was eager to play it, but I also just really had to/wanted to have a one-song dance party. A one-song dance party to my new favorite pop song that I can’t stop moving to. The one I have played at work probably 38 times since Friday morning.

Evan and I played it and laughed at each other and danced and laughed more and pushed play again.

And took a million photos. With—yes—my grainy, mirrored, computer camera:

dance_dance_dance

Then we caught our breaths and dished up dinner and put on our new album and played rummy with our new bird-themed deck of cards. We ended the night with more wine, a third listen to the album, and me insisting I look at all of the bird cards and organize them by favorite.

birds_by_favorites

It feels like such a new time. Such a great time. A bright time. [no matter what Ben is singing about.]

[brightness. back with me.]

 

 

 

fall, y’all.

I totally got called out by a friend at work the other day. After biking to work, I bounced in the door wearing my buffalo plaid jacket and my scarf and my boots, smiling and excited for coffee. My friend looked at me and said,

– You love fall, don’t you? Look at you! You say, “Ugh. I hate the cold” but you love fall so much. I bet you already had two pumpkin spice lattes today!

I have not had any pumpkin spice lattes this season… yet. But — crap — I think I love fall, y’all.

Especially when exercise = leisurely strolls with friends and sneaky wine and beautiful sunsets.

IMG_0848 IMG_0843 IMG_0868

 

crunching leaves. actually having time to read. or watch a documentary or appreciate some rad art-vertising. [those are basically the same as reading, right?] espresso galore. new [lovely] music.

walks for the hell of it. podcasts on podcasts on podcasts on podcasts. dates with my husband where the couple at the next table shares their ah-mazing bottle of wine with us.

dammit, I’m a cliché. I love it all.

frictioning geometry.

Tonight felt so much like what this used to feel like.

Evan is gone. Backpacking. And this feels alone like I used to be. Alone.

Staying up late, working on projects, drinking wine, listening to this:

This whole album.

And flipping through an old friend of a book, trying to help a commenter who got lost in the mix. Remembering the power of this:

“Because secrets do not increase in value if kept in a gore-ian lockbox, because one’s past is either made useful or else mutates and becomes cancerous. We share things for the obvious reasons: it makes us feel un-alone, it spreads the weight over a larger area, it holds the possibility of making our share lighter. And it can work either way – not simply as a pain-relief device, but, in the case of not bad news but good, as a share-the-happy-things-I’ve-seen/lessons-I’ve-learned vehicle. Or as a tool for simple connectivity for its own sake, a testing of waters, a stab at engagement with a mass of strangers.”

– A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius.  [Dave Eggers].

It rings so true and affirms decisions to turn harboring weight into art. Use it. Mold it. Be it. Show it.

We all got things to hide.

Lovely.

Sitting in this seat. Working. Staring at a screen. The windows open. Hearing people at the park down the road. Cheering. Laughing. Yelling. And just sitting here. Staring. Listening. More wine, please. Don’t mind if I do.

Photos of myself. Just like it used to be. Just like it used to feel.

likeitusedtobe

It’s just a reflektor.

Making sure I’m still here. Like it used to be. Still in a kitchen.

Is my kitchen messy? Is it messier than most? Every single drawer is open. Every drawer in my life is open at least a little bit… some are spilling; some only hanging on by frictioning geometry.

Do I look older? Shit, I am older. Wait. Am I old? No. Right?

It’s time for the night.

ohmygodthankyouforbeinghere.

where the smoke from a chimney ended.

Two things I very much want to share.

The first is this:

What 20-Somethings Want

“You want to find someone who will pick you up from the airport. It’s such a kind gesture but also one you would expect from someone who loved you a reasonable amount. The thought of having to wait for a shuttle while others are embracing their loved ones on the curb might just be too much for your little heart to bear. Where’s your car full of love? Where are the people who are going to make you feel welcome in this city? And, no, you are NOT going to take a taxi. You have too many friends who like you WAY too much for you to be taking that nonsense. Right? Hello? I’M AT TERMINAL 3. WHERE ARE THE PEOPLE THAT LOVE ME? Dear god, people have started to hug on the curb. Come quick!

You want to live closer to your parents. It’s not because you need to see them more. God no! Who would ever do a thing like that? It’s for if you ever wanted to see them. If their health took a turn for the worse, god forbid, or if you ever felt lonely and needed to just sleep in a home that felt warm and loved, you could do it. Living far away from them has its advantages but you’re starting to realize how much you miss out on by being on the opposite end of the country. If you lived in the same city as your parents, feeling safe and secure would just be one phone call and a twenty minute drive away.

You want to be “stable” and see yourself make real progress. You would love to find the key to adulthood (Um, I think I saw it at Crate & Barrel next to the colanders) and not want to get drunk at happy hour anymore. It’s quickly turning into unhappy hour and you’re trying hard not to become a casualty of your age. You want nothing more than just to make it through the twentysomething rain and land on a nice job, a nice couch that wasn’t purchased from IKEA, and, most importantly, someone’s nice dick and/ or vagina.

You want to develop a backbone and start saying no to having lunch with the random friend from high school. In fact, you want to abolish “catch up” lunches altogether. People are either in your life as it happens or not in it at all. Sitting through these elaborate brunches with people who once meant something to you but no longer make sense, and talking about how great your lives are going while reflecting on the good ol’ days is a slow form of masochistic torture. It feels like performance art: *INSERT SMILE HERE* and *INSERT “I’M IN A REALLY GOOD PLACE. HOW ABOUT YOU?” HERE*. You’ve been through so many lunches like this that you could practically do them in your sleep. In fact, you should probably just arrive to the restaurant 15 minutes early and place a giant stuffed animal in the chair in place of you and run out before your old school chum arrives. Don’t worry, they won’t notice! You can even attach a tape recorder and have it come on intermittently to say things like, “You look great! Can I have the Egg’s Benedict?” Or my personal fave catch-up topic, “I saw on Facebook that you two broke up. What happened?”

You want to know that you’re not insane, that there are other 24-year-olds have never been in a relationship before, or that other people have gotten too drunk and vomited on their taxi driver before and it’s all okay because this is growing up. Or something. You’re not actually sure. You never received an official manual but you figure that this is what it’s all about — feeling alienated and vomiting on strangers and never having as much sex as you would like. You just want to know that the things you’re going through aren’t unique, that other people are in the same rickety brokedown palace of a boat. I mean, you don’t mind being crazy so long as there are people out there who are equally as psycho. You’d prefer it if they were actually crazier than you, so you could feel good about yourself and where you’re at in your life.

You want a job, a vacation, heath insurance, validation, a back rub, a scalp massage at the place where you get your haircut, people who are jealous of you, an ex who won’t stop texting you when they’re drunk, Twitter followers, happiness maybe sorta, someone to buy you lunch at a fancy restaurant, a mentor who can tell you what the hell to do with your life, a reliable internet connection, a reliable human connection, a gift card to the grocery store, dinner parties with friends where everyone will pretend to have their crap together for just one night, a nice flirty text message to wake up to every morning for the rest of your life, for everyone to like you even if you don’t like anyone, and one of those nights that doesn’t end till 9 AM and reminds you what it feels like to be young and alive. Oh, and $$$. That’s all. Think you can get that for me? For us?”

[the link: http://thoughtcatalog.com/2012/what-20-somehings-want/]

Right?  I mean, right?

I love it.  I love it all.  Lisa [my most lovely] sent me that… and I just think it’s wonderful/hilarious/amazing.

Speaking of amazing…

Read this book…

Maybe my favorite book.

Another thing Lisa has given me that is beautiful and irreplaceably perfect.

Every time I think about this book… this precious book… I am brought back to reading it by the wall in the park near the museum in Sydney that I visited often.  Being in such a large city.  Disappearing.  Finding things.  Finding me.

Here.

Right there.

A powerful time.  Definitely a time for the books.

The book.

Read it.

And then watch the movie…

I don’t know if you’ll love/understand it as much if you don’t read the book first.

I just finished watching it… in the theater… by myself.  [by choice… not that there’s anything wrong with that.]

And I was brought back to that wall in the park near the museum.  Alone.  Filled.  Bursting.

I loved it.  I recommend it to you.

felt so close to the me.

Snow has covered everything… making everything seem fresh, new.

Exhaustion exudes from me, but there is so much to share.

Here are some selects before my bed wins her game of seduction…

//love this cover.

//obsessed with these insides.

http://en.blogotheque.net/2011/02/04/stars-en/

//felt so close to the me of another time.

http://fashionista.com/2011/12/see-the-full-girl-with-the-dragon-tattoo-for-hm-collection/

//been spending a lot of time with lisbeth salander lately.

//hope this is a fraction as wonderful as the book.

//have a most lovely friday.