Thursday, April 28, 2011


Pre-script: I am probably going to dye my hair red. Not red red, but redder than it is now. Strawberry blonde. Because I am, in Emily's words, "young and have no one to stop me."

Today, Matthew Tom Pockrus, possessor of an ACT score that ends with a 4 and begins with a 3, significant other of our high school's most attractive female, and self-proclaimed "charmer" told me this: "You should get a boyfriend."

Awesome, Matt. Let me just sift through the "I Want to be Your Boyfriend" applications of all of the men who are just dying to be my boyfriend and choose one here real quick.

Or maybe I'll make a "Wanted" ad and hang it up around high school. Here's what it'll say:
"Wanted: A male who is perfect (give or take a hair or two)." That ought to work, right?

But in all seriousness, I can't just "get a boyfriend." A.) I just don't think relationships are my thing. People are weird when they're in them. B.) I don't need anyone. C.) I fall in love with people who shan't ever reciprocate my feelings. D.) I am searching for perfection, and I know it exists, but it doesn't love me back. So I'm searching for it elsewhere, and it really doesn't exist anywhere else.

And, E.) I can't just decide to have a boyfriend, Matt. Also, F.) Matthew, whether or not I have a beau is not exactly the determining factor in my self-worth.

But, nonetheless, here is my advice to you boys. It was written by Rosemarie Urquico in response to something some man wrote called, "Date an Illiterate Girl," and although it is not perfect... It is perfect in a way. If you are a boy who loves the idea of dating a reader/writer (with points to follow) please put in an "I Want to be Your Boyfriend" application for me to look over.

Anyway. Just read this:

"Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag.She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality, but she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes."

(Cough, cough.)

Tomorrow is, technically, today.

All my love,


Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Little bodies.

I dislike my thighs. In fact, to be frank, I hate my thighs.

Also, I hate my hips and my butt and my waist and the small layer of softish fat that seems to encompass my entire body. But you know what I do like? My eyelashes.

I really, really, really like my own eyelashes.

That will be all.

Umbrellas catch the tears the clouds cry.
All my love,

P.S. I know I shouldn't complain about my own body, because it is in my own control. But at this exact moment, while my body is experiencing the repercussions of 16 years of my horrendous eating habits, I am not happy with it. So it's my own fix and I should not complain.
P.P.S. I'm really worried about putting this post on the air. The part you should pay attention to is the part about eyelashes. Just focus on that, please.

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

And then bibliophiles obtained cute clothing.

[Image 01]
[Image 02]
[Image 03]
[Image 04]
[Image 05]

I love books and I love clothes and I love books with pretty covers. Who knew they could be so lovely when put together?

Image 01: This book is killing me, I must admit. However, it's brilliance is undeniable and the shirt is lovely.

Image 02: This book opened my eyes to loving reading. I read it with my dad and we both cried at the end.

Image 03: Best. Book. Ever. Hands down. Simply prophetic.


Image 05: I hated this book upon first reading it, but I am now learning how profound it is. Plus, I love this one. It's the prettiest.

Basically, I need all of the things pictured above. Click here to buy one for me. Or just to see all of the beautiful things and read about the project.

All my love,

Monday, April 25, 2011

A toast.

Here's to stains left by coffee cups, to the way my typewriter makes my entire room smell like ink, to shoes with holes in the toes, to songs that make you cry, to Vampire Weekend, to red velvet cake, to diets that work, to petrichor, to kissing, to baking, to having more friends than enemies, to card towers, to I Love Lucy, to good hair days, to old things made new, to wearing dresses, to hot chocolate that doesn't taste like water, to thought provoking street-art.

Here's to you.

"You must eat so many lemons, 'cause you are so bitter."
All my love,

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Things which I have.

I have a secret.

I also have tea party fever.

That will be all, folks.
All my love,

Saturday, April 16, 2011


This post was originally written on April 13, 2011.

How to Stalk Boys who are Cute and Staying in the Same Exact Hotel as you are: a list of (rather flexible) guidelines.

1. Following.
When following The Stalkables, follow a good twenty to thirty-ish feet behind. This is a good distance, because, while it is not incredibly obvious that you are following said Stalkables, you also have them within your sights. Allow other people to meander about in front of you, for this helps to keep your followings a secret.

2. Nonchalance.
Carry with you an air of nonchalance. If you are following The Stalkables with another individual, chat semi-loudly about things completely unrelated to The Stalkables, saying things like, "That was lovely today, when we ate that hummus," or "I like your shoes." If you are following/stalking all by your lonesome, do yourself a favor and bring along a walkman or MP3 player of some sort. It is also advisable to carry a newspaper or little book in which you can bury yourself if you believe you might be getting caught.

3. Elevators, small stairways, & other secluded areas.
All of the aforementioned are extremely tedious, because getting caught becomes almost inevitable. Elevators are difficult, because if one does not get on the same elevator as The Stalkables, one will not know where The Stalkables are leaving the elevator; however, getting on the same elevator makes it positively impossible to remain unnoticed. At the same time, if one is desirous to actually speak The Stalkables, an elevator is a perfect playing ground for making small talk, learning names, etc. As far as small staircases go, unless there are loads of (or even just several) other people, these can prove disastrous. Treat small & deserted staircases with much care and discretion. Secluded areas: Depending on the secluded area, it may be possible to follow The Stalkables into bespoken area. This one is up to you. If you're feeling bold, you could sit near them (or even talk to them!). Often, it is advisable to lurk about the entrance to the secluded and wait for The Stalkables to exit, upon which time the stalking can resume.

4. Stupidity.
It's best to steer clear of any stupidity, really. Don't allow The Stalkables to overhear you saying something like, "Ha, ha. I just almost died 'cause I almost walked into the glass on the other side of the sliding glass door." Instead, allow them to walk past while you are reading Jane Eyre or telling your partner in crime, "And that is why E equals MC squared," or "Everyone knows the story of Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture -- when that piece was unvieled, they used a real cannon, you know." It is also advisable to throw in a British accent, just for good measure.

All my love,

Thursday, April 7, 2011


I care less and less about the state my hair is in as time goes by.

I suppose that's fine.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Monday, April 4, 2011

My life is beginning to look like a relatively bad independent film.

All events in this movie were based on real life.
Cinematography: exceptional.
Soundtrack will consist of (but is not limited to): "Red Rabbits" by The Shins, "A Thing for Me" by Metronomy, several Nevershoutnever pieces, and probably something by Frank Sinatra.

Femme Fatal (me): bookish, writerly, oh-so-single. Never been in love. Outspoken. Rather intelligent. Enjoys clothing and good music. Not completely unfortunate looking. Likes boys who are tall, skinny, well-dressed, and cultured - the "you're totally going to fall in love with someone who fits all your criteria and then find out he's gay and be totally heartbroken" joke has been made more than once.

Leading Man (unnamed male whom I occasionally associate with*): tall, well-dressed, musical. Obviously ultra-attractive. Skinny. Listens to good music. Orders good food.

Femme Fatal meets Leading Man through friend of a friend of a friend. Femme Fatal falls for Leading Man. Leading Man and Femme Fatal talk and become friends. Leading Man and Femme Fatal flirt (or so Femme Fatal thinks).

Twist in plot: a script moment:
Femme Fatal: (says something about kissing in passing)
Leading Man: I don't really kiss girls?
Femme Fatal: Have you ever kissed anyone?
Leading Man: Listen, this can't get around. Okay?
Femme Fatal: Okay.
Leading Man: I definitely have a boyfriend who I've had for a year.
Femme Fatal: (stuggles not to correct his usage of "who" to "whom" before realizing what this actually means)

Fade to black. Credits roll.

No moshing.
All my love,

*Disclaimer: This is not Cache, nor is it Jed. Worry not.

Saturday, April 2, 2011