On the train back to Chicago after spending the night in Indernana. My baby sister turned 16 today. I wonder why they call it sweet 16. I think every girl is “TOTES EXCITED” to turn this age, but looking back at it, I’m not sure why. When you’re 16, everything’s a big deal. I was trying to remember 16. I wasn’t allowed to date until I was this age; the guy I was into for two months prior to my birthday officially asked me out on my birthday during lunch. Two months later, he’d make out with some chick at… I’m not done yet.
Posts Tagged: boyfriend
Yes, I’m still watching “Mad Men.” Yes, I now want to read the book on which this title is based. Yes, I still think Vincent Kartheiser is ugly and I hate his pouty faces. I find myself at crossroads at the strangest times these days. Tonight, while walking to voice lessons, I started to think about the guitar I’ve had since I was 16… and how I should get it fixed. SOMEONE tried to restring it and successfully busted two pegs. And then I started to think about the electric guitar that belonged to my ex. And how I’ll never… I’m not done yet.
It was never my intention to post my book, but I have little else to write about (at least tonight). I will say that, while I have faithfully written this blog every day so far this year, I am still afraid of finishing what I also feel destined to complete. In my heart, I am a writer. And in my heart, I am scared of so many, many things. — The summer after you did, Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett both died on the same day. I walked past the condo I had sent you a picture of about two… I’m not done yet.
I had someone at work tell me that I needed to date someone who reads books. (Not the first time this has happened.) I then had someone text me a picture of a wedding cake, and ask me what kind of cake I wanted at my wedding. I don’t know what’s out there in the universe, but something’s up. I really don’t want to be bogged down with suggestions about my single-dom and how to fix it. I’m not sure anything needs to be fixed. I’m not going to say that I don’t miss being in a relationship (some women,… I’m not done yet.
It was three years ago today that I walked into the bedroom and found you lying there, face down in a pillow, on the floor. I walked over to you after not hearing from you for days, thinking that you were just asleep, but it didn’t take me long to realize that something was wrong. Your body, covered in bruises. Your body, now marbled. It was your ear, specifically. It curled in such a way, like that of grey cauliflower. It was your ear which made me say your name over and over again. It was your ear. It was… I’m not done yet.