"How wrong it is for a woman to expect the man to build the world she wants, rather than to create it herself."
— Anais Nin (via honeyrosfe)
A firm believer that all mothers should raise their sons to be gentlemen because i have my hopes set on the idea that maybe chivalry isnt dead yet...
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browneyedenvy asked: I sit here like a proud mama. I am so proud that you have found a perfect man to love you. You deserve it so very much. You and your baby girl both deserve a good man to treat you both like queens. You are one of the most headstrong,devoted,and genuine beings I have ever known about. I wish you nothing but continues happiness in life and love. Keep that heart strong for your darling.
Seeing this made me feel so great. Thanks, mamma. Means a lot and my darling is better now. Thankful. So thankful. Hope you are well.
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This morning’s cup of hot tea.
<3
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Im almost there.
(Source: likehoneyortar)
Love in a Time of Cholera…or Meningitus…
My Darling was building his computer by the sunlight of his curtainless window the day I started writing this in his almost-new notebook. I lay on his bed, reading one of his books. There is a soundtrack here…. music I have never heard until today and it’s been far too long since I’ve felt inspired or relieved…let alone love….taking over me. And I see your face, smiling in all the places I plan to be. It’s big and bright and silence makes comfortable sense at night. You’re here… like I never thought you would be. Quiet and humble and lovely in more ways than one. I told him I didn’t deserve this…. He said I deserve everything. And his half-painted walls are a reminder of every sacrifice he’s made to convince me to stay….and I love you. In the most grateful of ways. And my love is loud and unshy and overwhelming (at times) and it catches him off guard but I never mean for it to…. It just explodes into the world. The way love’s supposed to. Explodes like excitement and new ideas and stardust that you see in movies. Explodes like magic and sunlight beating down on sleepy eyes the morning after your first night together….when you realize he still has his arms around you, in the same position you fell asleep in…. because there’s no greater feeling than knowing you had no reason to move from that spot, during your sleep…that there was no discomfort or too much body heat….and how you hope it’s like that forever.
His sickness came bursting through my bedroom door unannounced and with no invitation… It took him away without cause or reason and in fits of frustration and fear, I questioned all we had and how far we had come… and for a second there, I thought he might leave. After months of falling asleep and waking up to him, I was alone just as I had been for three years before him. The three years that seemed nonexistent when we were busy making memories together….when he was feeding me doritos during Harry Potter nights and making cakes with Ava on her iPhone app. I saw him tonight. He was released from the hospital and out of respect for his mother,whom I had just met, I did not kiss him upon arrival. We laughed and talked and had dinner with his mother then he walked me to my car and I talked up a storm and he kissed me to silence me for a second and once again….electricity. And it hurt because it was all I had been waiting for since he left for the hospital and I knew it was a make it or break it kiss for me and it’s unheard of…how divine that kiss was and the only reason it hurt was because I felt guilty for questioning it at all.
My Darling. Through you, I have learned that it isn’t how long you’ve loved someone that determines love’s intensity, it is how hard you love them. And I love you like concrete heartbeats. I do not need a reason to adore you, I just do. I love you without caution because there is no careful way to truly love someone. We are not careful with our hearts. We are so trusting. And whether it ends in tragedy or in old age… right here, right now, at this very second…. I am happy (and you are sleeping) and I will see you tomorrow because tomorrow has promised me your safe return to my arms and bed.
“Where There is Love, There is No Question.”
Yesterday’s cup of hot tea. Words to live by.
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If I Should Have A Daughter……
(and I do and if you have one, you’ll like this too)
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arturo oliva pedroza on Flickr.
What It Feels Like To Breathe:
The Pros and Cons of Being Alive
November 26, 2011
Dear You,
I am writing to you tonight because I have not done so in months. I have abandoned you because I no longer have a sit-down job where I can bullshit all day and evening… I actually have to work now. This is has been a roller coaster of strange, wonderful, sometimes devastating events. I still work for the same company, just a different, more rewarding position. Everyone calls it a gateway position because from here on out, we can only move up and out with company.
I love my job. It’s stressful as fuck sometimes but I love it and the people I work with. That’s hard to come by these days. Most people complain about their work place, I go to work (late, usually) with a big cheesy smile on my face for more than one reason lately. My checks are very pleasant. Can’t say I’m struggling now, which is great in so many ways but also I have met someone wonderful. His name is Trevor and I’ve known him for a long while now but only in the last few months, as fate has allowed it, have we been seeing each other…
Trevor. He’s amazing. haha. Amazing is an understatement. He’s just perfect by definition only I can define. It started off super innocent. He would help me with my math homework because the entire world knows I fuckin suck at math. We’d stay up late on AIM (LOL it’s silly, I know) working out math problems together then I’d go to work and he’d sit in our back office with me and help me there. We quickly became aware of how much we had in common. And then the math help sort of dissolved and all that was left were silly conversations about music and movies and Harry Potter and documentaries and I fell asleep texting him and woke up with texts and I was 15 again and I was head over heels and I think he was too. Then of course one night when he was leaving my apartment after a normal hang out session….he kissed me… and you can roll your eyes if you want but I felt electricity shoot through every vein in my body and my eyes hurt from how tight they were closed and then he did it again, and again, and then i kissed him and that was it, my friend…. That’s how it started. A nervous, slow, then electrifying kiss and now he’s all I see. Everywhere, in everything, and we’ve been inseperable since.
My darling, I call him… because he’s handsome and sweet and good to not only me, but my Ava. Now don’t you go getting all worried. You know how I am. In the three years that I’ve been single, I have let close to no man near my little girl…. you know this. But Trev is different. I can feel it….everywhere. From the way he kisses me, to the way he looks at Ava when she’s talking nonsense to us as I’m getting dressed for work in the morning. He’s a genuinely nice, good-hearted man… And after years and years of chasing the assholes and life-ruiners and becoming an asshole and life-ruiner myself, I can finally appreciate a nice guy now that he has come my way.
I’m gonna hold onto him for as long as I can. I want to say he’s the one… that we’ll marry and have children and live somewhere up north where it snows and our families will fly in every holiday season to spend time with us and the children…. but I can’t promise that this will play out that way… I can only appreciate that he is here right now because for all I know, he could be gone in the morning.
So that brings me to the more devastating events that have taken place lately. One of them being my progress in school… I completely fucked myself in the ass this semester. I dropped 3 out of 4 classes and I’m not proud of it, alright…. I’m disappointed in myself because i know I have so much potential to do great things in school and I have let myself down. Please don’t make those eyes… dont look at me like that, I know what youre thinking and I wish you wouldnt think that. I promise you and myself that next semester I will redeem myself. Promise.
Another tragedy: Trevor is in the hospital right now….with a sickness no doctor can diagnose. It’s driving me crazy. For the last few months we have spent almost every single day together and here I am, sitting at home, Trevor-less for almost 5 days now because he can’t have visitors due to the fact that they don’t know if it’s contagious or not. We talk as much as we can but he’s usually tired from the medicine they give him so he sleeps a lot. I took a 3 week vacation from work so I can spend some time with Ava and him but he’s been in the hospital and it doesnt make it any easier when my almost-4-yr old asks from him twice a day. I made him promise me that he will be better soon. It was a selfish promise, only a selfish girl would demand…. He told me I had to be strong so he can be strong…. I’m trying, my darling…. I really am….If all else fails, I told him I would book a room at the Omni La Mansion, a hotel across the street from his hospital. I told him I’d ask for the room directly across from his window and I’d make us string and cup phones so I can be with him above the streetlights and he wouldnt be so lonely….nor would i. Love…..haha its so pitiful in comparison to the feelings we have for each other.
So here I am…. I just took a bubble bath and I’m about to start reading this Murakami book. I hope you are well. I hope you are divine and I hope I caught you at a good time. I am REALLY going to try not to disappear for months on end again. I know it bothers you. It bothers me too.
Pros: mutual love, financial stability, and 3 week vacation.
Cons: unwanted separation, shitty student, and hotel rates at La Mansion.
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"You should date an illiterate girl.
Date a girl who doesn’t read. Find her in the weary squalor of a Midwestern bar. Find her in the smoke, drunken sweat, and varicolored light of an upscale nightclub. Wherever you find her, find her smiling. Make sure that it lingers when the people that are talking to her look away. Engage her with unsentimental trivialities. Use pick-up lines and laugh inwardly. Take her outside when the night overstays its welcome. Ignore the palpable weight of fatigue. Kiss her in the rain under the weak glow of a streetlamp because you’ve seen it in a film. Remark at its lack of significance. Take her to your apartment. Dispatch with making love. Fuck her.
Let the anxious contract you’ve unwittingly written evolve slowly and uncomfortably into a relationship. Find shared interests and common ground like sushi and folk music. Build an impenetrable bastion upon that ground. Make it sacred. Retreat into it every time the air gets stale or the evenings too long. Talk about nothing of significance. Do little thinking. Let the months pass unnoticed. Ask her to move in. Let her decorate. Get into fights about inconsequential things like how the fucking shower curtain needs to be closed so that it doesn’t fucking collect mold. Let a year pass unnoticed. Begin to notice.
Figure that you should probably get married because you will have wasted a lot of time otherwise. Take her to dinner on the forty-fifth floor at a restaurant far beyond your means. Make sure there is a beautiful view of the city. Sheepishly ask a waiter to bring her a glass of champagne with a modest ring in it. When she notices, propose to her with all of the enthusiasm and sincerity you can muster. Do not be overly concerned if you feel your heart leap through a pane of sheet glass. For that matter, do not be overly concerned if you cannot feel it at all. If there is applause, let it stagnate. If she cries, smile as if you’ve never been happier. If she doesn’t, smile all the same.
Let the years pass unnoticed. Get a career, not a job. Buy a house. Have two striking children. Try to raise them well. Fail frequently. Lapse into a bored indifference. Lapse into an indifferent sadness. Have a mid-life crisis. Grow old. Wonder at your lack of achievement. Feel sometimes contented, but mostly vacant and ethereal. Feel, during walks, as if you might never return or as if you might blow away on the wind. Contract a terminal illness. Die, but only after you observe that the girl who didn’t read never made your heart oscillate with any significant passion, that no one will write the story of your lives, and that she will die, too, with only a mild and tempered regret that nothing ever came of her capacity to love.
Do those things, god damnit, because nothing sucks worse than a girl who reads. Do it, I say, because a life in purgatory is better than a life in hell. Do it, because a girl who reads possesses a vocabulary that can describe that amorphous discontent of a life unfulfilled—a vocabulary that parses the innate beauty of the world and makes it an accessible necessity instead of an alien wonder. A girl who reads lays claim to a vocabulary that distinguishes between the specious and soulless rhetoric of someone who cannot love her, and the inarticulate desperation of someone who loves her too much. A vocabulary, goddamnit, that makes my vacuous sophistry a cheap trick.
Do it, because a girl who reads understands syntax. Literature has taught her that moments of tenderness come in sporadic but knowable intervals. A girl who reads knows that life is not planar; she knows, and rightly demands, that the ebb comes along with the flow of disappointment. A girl who has read up on her syntax senses the irregular pauses—the hesitation of breath—endemic to a lie. A girl who reads perceives the difference between a parenthetical moment of anger and the entrenched habits of someone whose bitter cynicism will run on, run on well past any point of reason, or purpose, run on far after she has packed a suitcase and said a reluctant goodbye and she has decided that I am an ellipsis and not a period and run on and run on. Syntax that knows the rhythm and cadence of a life well lived.
Date a girl who doesn’t read because the girl who reads knows the importance of plot. She can trace out the demarcations of a prologue and the sharp ridges of a climax. She feels them in her skin. The girl who reads will be patient with an intermission and expedite a denouement. But of all things, the girl who reads knows most the ineluctable significance of an end. She is comfortable with them. She has bid farewell to a thousand heroes with only a twinge of sadness.
Don’t date a girl who reads because girls who read are storytellers. You with the Joyce, you with the Nabokov, you with the Woolf. You there in the library, on the platform of the metro, you in the corner of the café, you in the window of your room. You, who make my life so goddamned difficult. The girl who reads has spun out the account of her life and it is bursting with meaning. She insists that her narratives are rich, her supporting cast colorful, and her typeface bold. You, the girl who reads, make me want to be everything that I am not. But I am weak and I will fail you, because you have dreamed, properly, of someone who is better than I am. You will not accept the life of which I spoke at the beginning of this piece. You will accept nothing less than passion, and perfection, and a life worthy of being told. So out with you, girl who reads. Take the next southbound train and take your Hemingway with you. Or, perhaps, stay and save my life. *
"— Charles Warnke (via jarrodis)
Thanksgiving 2011. I’m thankful for my awesome boobs and the Grinch that is my daughter.
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le sigh. lovely lovely girl
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