back to black

dear Amy,

I hope you are finally able to find some peace.

I keep thinking back to that spring night so many years ago, when we stared at each other across a bar at a party. I noticed your tattoos first. And then I was amazed at how small you were. And also, how low-key: a simple green shirt and a pair of jeans. No dramatic eyeliner, no beehive. No hysterics, no drunken antics. Just a quiet girl looking for a drink. Something like me.

You were looking at me and probably just wondering why I was staring.

When I first moved to NYC, in those rough first few months, I only had Back to Black on my Ipod. In a way, you were my truest friend during that time. With me on the subway, when I got lost in the city, with me as I sat alone in the park, with me as I fell asleep.

There are a lot of people saying a lot of things about you, as they do. I just feel sorry to have lost you, and wish you well.

We'll always have the fall of 2008.

dancing in the moonlight

Saw HP7.2 this evening with S... I totally expected him to crack first, but I was weeping like a crazy person about 45 minutes into it.

I don't have a long history with Harry, other than making fun of my friends who were reading the books. I saw the first movie in the theater when it came out, because it was free and I had nothing else to do.

It wasn't until the summer that the Deathly Hallows was released that I thought I should see what the fuss was all about. I went on a vacation with book one, thinking maybe I'd get to reading it. I started one night and ending up reading the whole book in one sitting, something I haven't done since I was in elementary school. Who knew a children's series about wizards could be so well-written and so engaging to a person in her late 20s?

Harry Potter is in fact about a lot of things... wizards being the least of them. That's for a whole other post. Tonight I mostly just wanted to say something to all the people on the internets who are losing their shit over the movies being over. You are all missing the most beautiful thing about it. About Harry Potter, Frodo, even Edward fucking Cullen. About books in general.

They will always be there for you, waiting. Whenever you need them. Even though you know where the journey ends, that doesn't mean you can't enjoy the ride again.

And so, after crying my way through the final Harry Potter film this evening, I walked down to my local bookstore and bought books one and two (for the second time). So I can start all over again.

listen, I've been drinking... as our house lies in ruin. I don't know what I'm doin'. Alone, in the dark. At the park or at the pier, watching ships..

...disappear in the rain. ?

The 12 year-old me would be judging the 29 year-old me endlessly. I definitely never designed this life for myself. I was smart; I was gifted. I was destined to discover a cure for cancer AND open a top 3 Hollywood film. I was going to give a million dollars to my public high school english teacher; and a million dollars to my private high school. I was going to be married with three children by the age I am now.

But when I lay it all out, in memory, and really consider it all?

All I can say is that it was really fun. If I died tonight, I would have regrets, sure. But mostly I would have love and gratitude for the people who have come in and out of my life. There are some people and places and times that I miss so much.

I have kind of always been looking elsewhere... When I was younger, I was waiting for summer and rendezvous or Advance. When I was older I was waiting for Michigan (during which I was waiting for Texas) and then I was in Austin dreaming of the future and now I am in New York dreaming of Austin. I guess this is my fate. To be lonely for those cool Austin nights of 2004, where I rode my bike around town alone, listening to music and reading good books in the patios of closed restaurants, in the stillness of the town. Someday I suppose I will be lonely for Brooklyn, and the airplanes flying overhead at night, and the sound of rain on the roof.

The tide comes in, and the tide goes out again. I suppose this is the kind of thing we see every day.

The tide goes in; the tide goes away. Oh, the tide comes in, yeah the tide, yes the tide...

also

I have been working a lot. A lot a lot. And I am further reminded of my aging by the fact that I can't do what I could when I was 20. Or even 25. Forget partying all night and still showing up for doubles like some of the teenagers I employ. I can barely even handle my regular hours these days, with the only beverages consumed being tea and water.

Yesterday I skipped French class because I was exhausted like I had mono. I told myself I'd offset the class with a French film (sans subtitles) and a couple of letters en francais, but 30 minutes into Delicatessen I found myself dozing off. I slept for something like 18 hours, with a short interlude from 10-midnight for a couple of episodes of Futurama. I haven't been this tired in a looooong time.

you and whose army?

man, I almost deleted that last post today. in the morning light it seemed maybe a tad too personal for this here internet. but you know what, F*** it. I'll leave it up.

I got off work early due to rain and decided to just make it a night in. I stopped at my favorite wine store to stock up and they were rocking Amnesiac, which I haven't listened to in ages but seemed gloriously apropos.

You see. I'm feeling a bit strange these days. Turning 30 this fall, what does it all mean, blah blah blah. Memories are becoming vague, if they ever even happened to begin with.

Also, people are getting married left and right these days. I am thinking of two boys specifically this evening, one of whom I'd like to say congratulations to but I'm too scared to even say happy birthday. The more I try to wave a white flag, the more awkward things become.

We had a conversation in the fall that I'm pretty sure was important, but many shots of whiskey had been taken and I regretfully don't remember it. I just hope I represented myself correctly, and I hope they both know the only thing about this particular triangle that gets me down is that I seem to have lost two friends.

The other boy I'm not too mixed up about. It was what it was, and it was a long time ago. I just saw a random firework explode through a crack in my curtains on this rainy evening, and it reminded me of another time in history when I hurried to meet you in the dead of a January night, and a single firework exploded in my rearview mirror just as I glanced up to see it.

wiccan in the city

A postcard I saw on Postsecret recently had me thinking about religion. I guess I wanted to say something about it. I don't speak about it much, even to those I hold closest. I have lived with someone for over two years and have only mentioned it once.

It's not an issue of pride: I'm not ashamed about being a witch. It's just not something I like to discuss with anyone.

There's definitely a lot of misinformation out there, and even the most open-minded person probably imagines something very specific when someone says the words, "I'm a Wiccan." There was certainly a time in my life (hello high school) when I even played into that image a bit, because in a place filled with so many amazing personalities and talents I thought it was what set me apart. In reality, Wicca has many different faces and belongs to many different people, in different ways.

I have been a practicing pagan since I was 13. I like to think I was born this way; I didn't discover it nor did it search me out. I had no Wiccan friends and in fact was quite a strict Baptist. However, Sunday sermons just weren't adding up for me somewhere; something wasn't quite right. Wicca was in my heart always, already, even before I knew the name or shape of it. There are a lot of things I can't remember about my childhood but I'll already remember this: crouching in the new age section of a mall bookstore, heart thumping, as I flipped through a basic book on Wicca. I can still clearly remember thinking, "So this is what I am."

I guess the easiest way to explain it is to say that I always found it hard to find God in a church hall. He was almost never (or barely) present in the fellow small-town Christians I studied the Bible with every Wednesday night. When I spoke to Him in daily prayer I found that no one seemed to be listening. But watching the sun set, or a river flow, or listening to the wind flow down the mountains through the aspen trees? A shooting star on a clear night, the smell of autumn, the quiet of snow, a humpback whale leaping out of the Atlantic? There is God. Don't tell the priest about your fears, your mistakes. Tell the sun rise. Baptise yourself in a river; the sea. Go to church in a forest. Remember to gaze at the stars.

These days, I find myself living in New York, which is probably about as far from nature as you can possibly get. Strangely enough, I feel closer to the earth here than ever. A single basil plant springs from in between sidewalk cracks. Sweet clover briefly overwhelms the stench of exhaust. The cool wind blows off the river. The moon sets large and red over New Jersey.

I may not participate in the elaborate rituals these days. I don't visit online communities nor read much Wiccan literature. When someone asks about the star tattoo on my wrist, I laugh it off or make an excuse. But if anyone is truly curious, I'll be happy to tell you about it. And I never forget to appreciate a sunset, or say "thank you" when blowing out a candle.