HI HO SILVER AWAY

“I would like to tell you about a theory I’ve developed, in the past two years or so, about a certain brand of people I like to call “lighthouses.” This theory was developed after years spent in the company of one such member of the species, carefully observed in her natural habitat. She was my prototype, basically. Her name is Rylee and she’s my best friend. You might as well know that now because she’s going to come up a lot.

Rylee, since the time I met her seven years ago, has dated nine people. This is probably not remarkably high. It could even be average. What do I know? It could be that that number only seems large in comparison to my own figures, which are so low they are practically negative. But what’s really crazy, what’s really impressive about it, is her lack of time off between boyfriends. When she’s single, Rylee hardly needs to leave the apartment (or, in some of those cases, dormitory building) before anywhere from one to four different guys profess an interest in being her next boyfriend. There is a constant stream there. She’ll make her interests known, of course, but she always has options. She could sit down on the floor, be still, and wait, and I honestly believe that somebody would show up, sooner or later, to ask her out.

That’s what I like to call being “a lighthouse.”

I am not a lighthouse.

The first time I told Rylee that she was a lighthouse, she asked me what that made me. (Lighthouses generally recognize those that are- and aren’t- fellow lighthouses.) I thought about it for a minute. I said: “The Bermuda Triangle.”

I know that sounds like an exaggeration. And sure, to some extent, it probably is. For instance, there isn’t anything about me that is analogous to the Bermuda Triangle’s “rogue wave” phenomenon (at least I hope there isn’t). I don’t capsize sailors, much less entire ships. I keep to myself, you know? In fact, that’s probably what the Bermuda Triangle is up to. It doesn’t mean any harm, and it’s actually pretty nice once you get to know it. It’s just that Bermuda doesn’t know how to handle itself when somebody sails into its territory, because that hardly ever happens. It hasn’t had much chance to practice, and it’s used to things going a certain way. So if a sailor DOES come around, it gets a little nervous, freaks the fuck out, and creates hurricane-like devastation in every direction around it. And then it gets embarrassed and sad and calls its friends.”

-Never Have I Ever: My Life (So Far) Without a Date

Very Good Things (March)

-Had a great monthly meeting with my supervisor. She said that she really didn’t have anything to say to me because I’m one of her top stylists. Aww yea.

-Bought a plane ticket for New Orleans. Flying down in May!  

-Finally checked out Single Barrel with Edith and Felix (and then got delicious tacos).

-Greyhounds, smoking, banana boats, and fire fits with Michaela, Sean, and Eric. Nice to know that even with a baby our partying days aren’t over just yet.

-Bought a gorgeous dress and top at Anthro. Can’t wait to wear it in the summer!

-Taught Michaela and Sean how to make smores Finland-style.

-Finally beat 2048. Now I can have a life again.

-Went to a secret opening of Noodles in Cupertino and met the regional marketing manager. She gave us a ton of free food and was cool with me sending her my resume.

-Had the best first date of my life (TINDER WIN). Except the guy lives in New York and was only here visiting his parents but ignoring that crushing realization, the date was nice. Lol.

foxmouth:

Canada, 2012Daniel Zenker
How could I have been so ignorant? she thinks. So stupid, so unseeing, so given over to carelessness. But without such ignorance, such carelessness, how could we live? If you knew what was going to happen, if you knew everything that was going to happen next—if you knew in advance the consequences of your own actions—you’d be doomed. You’d be as ruined as God. You’d be a stone. You’d never eat or drink or laugh or get out of bed in the morning. You’d never love anyone, ever again. You’d never dare to.
Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin (via junglemusk)

The open, smiling face in the picture makes her want to cry. Her father puts his arm around her. “Don’t be too upset on Monday. I know it’s been tough. But we’re terribly proud of you, you know.”

"For what?" she says, blowing her nose. "I failed Dad. Most people think I shouldn’t have even tried."

Her father pulls her to him. He smells of red wine and a part of her life that seems a million years ago. “Just for carrying on, really. Sometimes, my darling girl, that’s heroic in itself.”


-The Girl You Left Behind

Go away SJSU

Ever since I graduated I’ve wanted nothing more than to be completely rid of SJSU but SJSU, it seems, is not ready to let me go just yet. In the last week I have gotten emails about how I have a lot of units and really need to graduate (my diploma arrived in the mail last week), a $2000 charge for my Finland trip (which I paid for and completed 8 months ago), an email that I was being honored for a scholarship (mistake?), and email that I’d made the Deans list (…). 

Very Good Things- February

-Started taking yoga classes at the Sports Center again and found a great class.

-Started my new job as a fashion stylist. The pay is good and I can work from home. Win!

-Saw Michaela and Everett.

-My old roomie, Ysela, took a job with Americorps and is being stationed in…. NEW ORLEANS. I screamed at my phone when I saw the news. Currently planning trips for May and October. Halloween in New Orleans? YES AND YES.  

-The guys want to go to Hawaii, so now I’m planning a trip there too. 

-Got my first paycheck from the new job and it was a beautiful thing.

-Survived a 3 am roll-out shift at J.Crew and bought myself a sweet maxi skirt. There are perks to being the first person to see new merchandise.  

-Loaded Tinder on my phone. This may not be a good thing in the long run, but it sure is fun. 

I can’t believe it’s already March.

I can’t believe it’s already March.

holdensolo:

R.I.P. Harold Ramis (Nov 21 1944 - Feb 24 2014)

holdensolo:

R.I.P. Harold Ramis (Nov 21 1944 - Feb 24 2014)