an open letter. to the bandwagon.

dear bandwagon,

i'm sure that falling off you must be very important in the recovery process. so that one can figure out how to get back on. quickly. 

this knowledge doesn't make the attempt to get back on any easier.

that's what the past five days have been about. trying to get back on.

last night i bought myself two large cupcakes from crumbs. and vanilla ice cream. i allowed myself to enjoy it. all of it. (okay, okay, so i felt sick after the first cupcake and only got a bit into the second one before throwing it away all together--damn, there goes $3.75). 

and then i went to town. and began to clean my room.

i should know by now that my mental health is directly tied to just how clean my room is. and to how well my nails are manicured.

i swiffered. and bawked at the amount of dust on the floor. 

i found a hidden pile of clothes that had missed going to the launderer by mere minutes. damn, again. 

i cleaned out my google account. too many unanswered, unopened emails. 

and attempted to respond to some comments. note for anyone reading this: i am the worst. the worst at responding to comments or accepting awards. this does not mean that i don't love them with every ounce of love i have to give. i do. i love them all. i live off of them. i drink them in like the lemon-line flavored bubble water that i have grown to love. wait. hold it. actually, i love them like the lemon-lime seltzer water and the occasional diet coke that now tastes like sweet nectar of the gods. 

and this morning i woke as early as i could. 8:30 to be exact.

pulled back my curtain and drunk in the cool summer breeze.

pulled out the coffee i bought yesterday. westside market french roast. to replace the folgers that just wasn't cutting it. whole beans, i bought, yesterday. not ground. oooohhhhh. okay. breathe in. breathe out. folgers it is.

no worries. 

and then i cleaned my mac keyboard. my grimy fingers do a number on those poor keys. 

and can i tell you something? now, as regina spektor plays on the stereo and the cool breeze infiltrates this once-boiling apartment, i know that today will be better. a clean (well, clean-er) room will do this to me. and i will pull down a good book from the shelf today--and the book will help. enormously. 

i'm off to make myself two eggs with cheddar cheese. protein please. 

and then off to work where i'll spend much of my morning cleaning up the mess of someone else. and as i scrub the tables i'll list (in my head) all those things that i'm good at. i may be disposable (at my current job) but i'm very good at a very many things. 

and if by some strange twist i later run into the boy that i have a crush on. and he is something less than friendly (despite, my attempts at kindness) i will console myself by remembering that it's his thing, not mine. 

those eggs are calling. i'll see you soon--because, bandwagon, it's only been a few days, but i've missed you.

meg, meg, meg

a thought she has caught by a thread

so i've been busy mulling over all of your questions.

and there's one i keep coming back to.

because do you remember when le love posted this video?

i became unbelievably taken with it.

and i began to play the song ad nauseum. 

i've yet to tire of it.

so when Thao asked, what song lyric best describes you...well...

Sun been down for days
A pretty flower in a vase
A slipper by the fireplace
A cello lying in its case

Soon she's down the stairs
Her morning elegance she wears
The sound of water makes her dream
Awoken by a cloud of steam
She pours a daydream in a cup
A spoon of sugar sweetens up

And she fights for her life
As she puts on her coat
And she fights for her life on the train
She looks at the rain
As it pours
And she fights for her life
As she goes in a store
With a thought she has caught
By a thread
She pays for the bread
And she goes...
Nobody knows

Sun been down for days
A winter melody she plays
The thunder makes her contemplate
She hears a noise behind the gate
Perhaps a letter with a dove
Perhaps a stranger she could love

And she fights for her life
As she puts on her coat
And she fights for her life on the train
She looks at the rain
As it pours
And she fights for her life
As she goes in a store
With a thought she has caught
By a thread
She pays for the bread
And She goes...
Nobody knows

And she fights for her life
As she puts on her coat
And she fights for her life on the train
She looks at the rain
As it pours
And she fights for her life
Where people are pleasently strange
And counting the change
And she goes...
Nobody knows

"Her Morning Elegance"

Oren Lavie

of course. 

(this big break here is

my Shakespearean pause.

it's meant to indicate a

substantial period

 of silence. so please do

observe while

mentally reading this

aloud.)

of course. 

i am fighting for my life. 

aren't you?

so last week, when i wrote this about how actually ned's not so bad and i'm thankful he's making me who i am...

well the next two days i could hardly breathe. the fight against ned became so intense that even breath failed me. 

and i fought for my life. 

and  i knew. i am who i am in spite of ned. not because of him. and i don't need to thank him for anything. to hell with ned. 

every day is a fight for my life. my life. versus the life ned would have me lead.

and putting on my coat. and getting out of bed. and getting on the subway. and smiling. and sitting down for a meal. and standing in front of a camera.

i fight for my life as i do all of these things.

but i am. i am fighting. and that's something.

and even more than that...i think i'm starting to  win.

Plato got it right, Be kind...for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle. 

When my mother taught me driver's ed we followed one maxim above all others. When another driver made a really glaring error, we always said, oh that must be their one mistake for the year. 

So when the man on the subway is nasty, or the patrons at my job, or the girl in front of me at the supermarket, I try to remember two things now: they are fighting a battle too. and it's most likely their only nasty moment of the year. 

image via visualize.us

don't know what i'm talking about

because you don't know who ned is?

check out my sidebar. i've left you

some clues there. happy searching.

becoming an adult. or: gentleman, take your damn caps off {a hat manifesto}.

My legs belie me. You see, they keep moving forward. And I am doing anything but. 

My parents passed through New York this weekend en route to other things. But we aligned our schedules just enough that we enjoyed a lovely family dinner on Saturday night and today (the lucky girl that I am) I got to spend all day with my mother. 

However, with the morning's downpour and an hour long session with Dr. Bob where the forecast of my face reflected the view out the window more than I'd care to admit, I felt anything but lucky. I wanted to crawl back into bed. 

No such luck.

Instead I met my mother on the corner of 68th and Broadway where I twisted my face into what I hoped would pass for a smile. 

Two blocks. That's how long it took for my mother to ask me why I'd been crying.

How to tell her that it's just been a rough patch. That the past two weeks have felt interminable. That getting out of bed has been a chore of great effort.

And so we stopped and stood under some crooked sidewalk scaffolding. And we both cried as the sky emptied out all around us. 

My mom said I could come home. If I need to. If I want to. For as long as I want. But I can't. Not this time. I did that once. But for now I have to grow up (or at least try). I have to make the decision to become an adult. To get out of bed in the morning, even when I don't want to and to brush my teeth. To floss. To shower and dress and walk instead of taking a cab. To smile at the checkout girl. To interact. To open. To bloom. Little things, every day. A few steps forward--and not just with my feet.

That's the thing about graduating from school that no one tells you: you have to grow up. Not immediately. It can be a slow, gradual process. But you have to make the decision. Because you're legs keep moving forward with or without you. You have to make the decision to keep up.

So men, when you enter a nice restaurant or a place of worship. When you go to dinner at a friend's house or attend a play at the theatre. Take...your hat...off. Full stop. No questions asked. This is one of those things that makes you an adult. And believe it or not, since fifteen year-old-boys are capable of it, so must you be. I do not hold this belief because I am from the South. I do not hold this belief because I am old-fashioned. I hold this belief because it's common courtesy--common decency. Frankly, I'm shocked that your parents never taught you as much. 

We all have battles we are fighting. I know this. So gentleman, I'll make you a deal. You take off your hats without a fight and I'll fight Ned as hard as I possibly can. 

spring is hard.

ned gains strength in the spring. the shock of not being able to cover every inch of my body in making-winter-bearable-clothing steamrolls me each and every day.

today something broke. something deep inside me. and i couldn't stop crying. so i said, to hell with it, i don't care if my tub does need a good scrub--i'm taking a bath anyway.

i climbed in, silently sobbing with my too big breasts feeling uncomfortable as they touched my crouching knees and water rose slowly around me. the tub was only half full when the warm water turned cold. so i turned the faucet. and sat there as the water quickly receded.

i never wanted big boobs. i say this and most girls balk. lucky girl, they say. and i'm forced to explain. my mother didn't have them. growing up, my standard of beauty was a small-breasted woman and i thought it was perfection. mine were small. once. and then ned showed up. and everything became bigger. and as the pounds piled on, i grew breasts. but they don't feel of me. instead i feel an impostor. they are borrowed, stolen--unnatural in some way. i'd gladly give them away. i'll always have my big butt and that's enough for me.

i keep thinking about lady macbeth's speech where she offers up her womanhood. asks it to be taken from her. i don't think lady macbeth was singularly evil or greedy. i think she hated herself. desperately. i think she hated herself so much that she put all of her energy into the one outside thing she thought would change everything--the one thing that might just fix it all: power. she wouldn't mind killing her own child for it because how could she love something born of a person she loathed so deeply? and the thing is she never had a child. so she didn't know. she didn't know that she would love that child. that that child would grant her more power than any title ever could. and so when she does attain that power and nothing's changed, she loses it. she goes off the deep end.

i feel sorry for her. because on some level (albeit a much, much smaller one {don't worry mom, don't worry dad--i'm fine, just going through it this week}) i understand. for me my panacea is weight. if only i were skinnier. if only i was thin. then all would be right in my world. then i would be confident. then i would have the guy of my dreams. the dream job. the postcard picture of a life.

but maybe the thing to be learned from lady m is this: so i get thin and then what? i realize it's not the cure-all and i'm spent spinning even further off course. there is no solitary remedy. no single spoonful of sugar. no marry poppins magic here. just life. and sometimes you just have to weather it, spring or any other season.

that's not to say i wouldn't give my big boobs back. if given the chance.

the pocket of impossible

Yesterday I wanted nothing more than to unzip my skin and begin again.

Today, with the possible in tow, I will attempt the latter. To begin again. And to store up the courage to believe that in the pocket of impossible is exactly where I'm meant to live. 

Oh Ned, are you really still here?

photo found here by .littlegirlblue