Fifteen

Leftover Thai food, broken chopsticks, and what is left of my vanilla scented candle are what sit beside me as I type the beginning of this post, the latter enticing me with its clear pool of hot wax, the former just a soupy mess of spicy coconut milk that I refuse to eat because, after two days, it already has all the good stuff picked out. Okay, I did it. I dipped eight fingers (the thumbs wouldn't fit) into the wax and peeled it all off. It brought me more pleasure than it probably should have.

Well. Now that I'm in my element. Friends, this is a special post. A post that's very very important to me. I'm going to write and write and write until it's worthy of her possession, but first I'm throwing down lots of pillows and blankets and asking you to feel welcome. We're celebrating my very lovely friend Claire, whose eloquence and beauty makes me aspire to be like her. Every day.

Whew. Ok. Soupy Thai food, broken chopsticks, scented candle, and the looming greatness of putting something beautiful into words. I've put it into feelings, I've pieced it together with music, but words? Hard to do. I don't know how it's going to come, or if it's even going to make sense, but nevertheless, I will tell you what I can. And being given the opportunity to write a letter to (one of) one's best friends is such a beautiful invitation. Nothing I'd rather do. But words are hard to find.

May be the candle that I'm almost sure is making me high...may be für elise in the background...may be the raw emotion of just knowing her...or the sheer beauty in these memories, but regardless...I'm a mess. And I guess that's okay.

I love talking to my friends on twitter. Every single moment. They annoy me to death and make me regret creating a twitter sometimes, but I would do it again. A trillion times over. I love knowing, no matter what happens, that I'm not alone. That it's me and so many other people there to help me. I couldn't wait to be part of a support system for the people who are such huge parts of mine, and what I wouldn't do... oh for the love of all things holy, what I wouldn't do to go back and meet some of them all over again. I would know how close we would eventually come, and I would approach them more with compassion and caring rather than hesitation and intimidation. I love having friends like them. Love it, love it, love it. That is one of the most beautiful things that could happen to a human. Ever. 

So anyway, in the middle of all these friends, there's one of the most wonderful, beautiful people ever. She's just good and kind and she always let's me lean on her for anything... and I never worry about anything because I have no reason to. Not with all the support and wisdom she gives me. Funny... since meeting her and asking for advice on things I'm worried about, many of my friends who are going through those same issues will ask "did you have to do this? were you nervous about that? did you.... blah blah blah". And I honestly cannot remember ever ever feeling nervous or anxious if I talked to her. 

It's been almost half a year since this one graced me with her beauty.

I followed Claire one afternoon in September. A decision that must have seemed trivial and impulsive at first, but, in the long run, that trivial, impulsive decision turned out to be not so trivial and completely, beautifully, wonderfully full-circle impulsive. I wanted to know who she was, why everyone loved her, what about her had stolen my entire timeline's heart.

I know now.

When I was in elementary school, we read a book called "Have You Filled a Bucket?" It’s all about the ‘feeling buckets’ every living creature possesses and the choices we all make everyday — do we dip from buckets or give to buckets? How do others interact with us? What feels best and right? How do we take responsibility for our own buckets? At bedtime, what is your day’s resumé; how does your bucket feel?

The other day, Savanna said "You treat Claire and everyone else like your sisters more than you treat me like your sister."

Sister, she is. Bucket filler.
 

There’s also a pretty rad connection between Claire and I. We know each other through photos, messages, twitter and Skype. A different world from 10 years ago. And this foundation brings it. Bucket filler.

It's a birthday. The celebration of a birth day, and the most beautiful, lively, intimate person I've ever met. And the fact that 7 months ago I was unsure of whether or not to follow her, but I made the absolute best choice. And the fact that I'm so happy she was born.

Her birthday. The anniversary of gratitude for every gift her life has given us. She is full of light and magic and beauty, and it's hard to put all of that into words. All of who she is. For certainly without saying it, that light and magic and beauty exists for me and Rafa, Sofia, Hudson, Grace, and Carina and those who know her well. Who she is is immeasurable and admirable beyond limits.

Yes, I'm so happy she was born.

And trying to tell her how much she means to me is a challenge so daunting that it just might not be possible.

But I'll try, rest assured.

Without further ado...

***

Claire,

Last November, you wrote a twitlonger. I think, after reading that, I truly started acknowledging you and realizing how remarkable you are, and observing all of the love you unleash with your little obsessions and rants and passions and words.

That twitlonger confirmed what I knew to be true: That no, I'm not alone. That there are other beautiful, kindred people who go through pain and loss and suffering.

When you wrote that, you were so broken. And it hurts to address that.

But what a girl you've become. A happy fairy of a thing who seeps life and spirit into your Claire aura. Fifteen. Fifteen years of beauty and grace and your spirit unleashed with your smile. And at the times when you were terribly sad. When you shut down because you didn't know what else to do. When you were truly consumed by your depression to the point where it seemed you may just be eaten alive.

You've come a long way, you know.

Somewhere and somehow, you leaned in. You figured it out on your own. You had to decide on your own to lean into that situation and realize that happy is a beautiful place to be. And you worked so hard to get there for us and for you, something I'm very grateful for. I'd love to think something I said or did caused that turning point for you, but I'm going to have to say it was all you, baby. You had to experience it, you had to wait, you had to be uncomfortable for awhile until you could begin healing.

There was one thing you told me in those early months, something I'll never forget.

"I hide my feelings, because no one wants to talk to a person who's crying all the time, you know?"

I don't want you to ever feel that way again. If you have to cry, cry until you can't cry anymore, because we will love you through it and we will help you as best we can and we will not pass judgement, and in doing so, we will remind you that We. Are. Always. Here. But you have to tell us. Please.

***

Okay, wasn't expecting to write all of that on that particular time, but I'm glad I did. That was stressing me out.

It was six months ago. The beginning of knowing someone extraordinary. I wonder sometimes what heaven is like. And I think that perhaps, if it really is as wonderful as we hope it is that someday when I leave this earth I will re-enter those moments of learning and love from you and our other friends, because it's one of the most insightful, lovely, sweetest heavens I've ever experienced and I could relive those moments infinitely. Especially since it's all we have until we meet, you know.

Claire, there is no way I could ever tell you how much I love you. How I smile when I see how mature you are in every way, yet how your heart is so young and wild and caring and unpredictable and undeniably you.

I'm not sure if you remember this, but last December, in early hours of the morning when not many people were online, five or ten of us came together to have a real, raw discussion about life and love and friendship and loss and growth. You started it of course, (whenever you throw out an idea it often releases this an entire dam of thoughts I've had for awhile) stating something along the lines of "Why do I always have these really intense emotional friendships and then suddenly we haven't talked in months?" And from there it just sky rocketed to a timeline conversation of mutuals agreeing and mutuals reminiscing and mutuals getting everything out as the mutuals often do when this type of conversation occurs. You and I somehow ended up talking this topic over in DMs, and I was amazed to find that we were one in the same when it came to love and appreciation for friends. And now, once again, I don't know if you'll remember this, but I said "I wish we had a closer friendship." And do you know what you said back? "Can we please?"

I reacted appropriately.
Like maybe I fell off the couch.

So I replied, "How do two people go about becoming close?" Neither of us knew. So we just did what we knew best. We talked and we skyped and we opened up to each other. And day to day, nothing really changed, but looking back, I think it happened somewhere in all the in-betweens of holidays and celebrations and big events. This is my thing. My mission, my passion, my niche. If we could have a neighborhood parade throwing candy every Sunday for no better reason than because the last day of the week should be celebrated—well, sign me up. Life is beautiful, Baby.

And while yes, I thrive on holiday adrenaline and birthday party planning sessions, it's the in-between that is truly worthy of celebration.

I think all of the big moments and all of the small moments should be represented in one post, because really, they're both important.

Secrets and plans told quickly and sincerely with swears of secrecy and down-lows.

DMs shared back and forth under the comfort of cold sheets and recognition that she is beautiful and I love knowing her.

Complaints of boredom during vacation, complaints of being too busy during school.

Twitlonger masterpieces screenshotted and saved for bad days.

And random I love you's between all of it... just because.

Claire, I love all of these kinds of moments we share together, but writing this letter is reminding me of all the little things I love about you. Not about "our friendship" really. About you.

I love your mood-lifting sarcasm.

Your hair.

Your wit.

Your contagious laughter.

The way you pay attention to everyone.

Your style.

When my notifications ding with a message from you.

The way you celebrate your friends' successes.

The way you challenge me when I need to hear it.

Any attempt at attaching words to something that words simply refuse to do justice to seems so lowly and unworthy.

You set the pace. You blaze the trail of love, and how easy it is to follow you. You are compassionate, spirited, independent and someone who likes to find her own way. You are witty and silly, caring and kind. You are a sunny little pixie and every dream and thought I ever had my entire life about friendship just can't compare with the reality of you and how beautifully you play the role of being a friend.


 And, while there's a lot more I could say, I want you to know that you've been evolving so beautifully lately into crazy little layers to the point where I am numbed with admiration and thankfulness for everything you are.

Thank you for everything you are. I'm so happy you were born.

Happy birthday, angel.

-Naomi

***

Thankful for all of her.

And the fact that the crazy birthday weekend has come to an end. (Almost)

Happy birthday, Claire. I love you.

To Fall in Love With Strangers (Also Known as 22)

Well hello there.
Goodness I have written and deleted about 17 sentences to begin this post, an ocean of thoughts holding back, waiting to swim into paragraphs.

I wonder if when John Milton (who I admittedly often confuse with Milton Bradley) sat down to write Paradise Lost, he created the perfect ambiance to do so. Certainly, an epic poem so historically known was not composed among a mess of a house or on cheap paper. No, I'm sure he had the finest of quills and the perfect candlelight, especially being that the light bulb had not yet been invented and candlelight was the only light available.

Even so...the point being that tonight I write epically, and in doing so, I have adjusted the atmosphere accordingly. It's tea, piano music, and candles (which, in all honesty are more for effect being that I'm writing on a harshly bright screen) ...and oh, the preparation of articulating twenty two years worth of beauty. That too.
I am tackling the concept of "tell her how much she means to you" with one giant post.

Well, I'm just going to start typing. Because you have to begin somewhere. Writing her a letter 15 months later is interesting. My, how we change over time. And yet really, I'm still the same girl. The one who started dreaming of having a friendship with Mia before she was even brave enough to tweet her by herself.  The one who held giant spaces in her heart reserved for many many friends she would meet over twitter, and she didn't even know it.  The one who possessed a multitude of strengths that would stretch and grow throughout the year, guiding her through challenges, pulling her toward victories, and always always pushing her towards a greater love.

First, I'll preface this by saying that the writing of letters for my best friends is done freely.  I didn't reread or edit Mila's before posting, and this will follow suit.  I write.  I write and I write and I write, and whatever falls onto this screen gets published.  Love and honesty without censoring is how I like their letters to be preserved.

I remember what it feels like to be handed this friendship. Pure joy. Heaven. Given to me. And when I look at this blessed human being that I love so much, I can't believe anything other than that there is something bigger orchestrating all of these beautiful little things. So I must have done something right.

There are scribbles of precious unshared moments from my friendships that are hidden in lost tweets and DMs, and there are parts of these chapters--also precious--that I share.  It is a common thread that runs through the tapestry of my friendships--all kinds of people, so many unique and beautiful twitter friends, miles of earth that separate us, cultures and beliefs and families that identify us--but each of my friends has a story of how I feel about them individually.

This is Amelia's.

***

A Little Story to Begin 
On December 29th, 2012, I talked to Mia for the first time. I didn't tweet much those last couple of days of that year, but there were a few moments when I did some interesting things, according to my memory. Talked to Mila, was one. And another... I talked to Mia. I can't think of exactly how it started, or exactly what we said, but all I know is, it was the start of something beautiful. Something very beautiful.

I would go back to our basic and cringey friendship days in a second if you asked me, but I suggest you don't ask me those kinds of things because I'll throw your question into a mental movie montage and one piano sonata later, we'll all be crying.

The beginning story of our friendship is quite similar to the one I wrote last December, on Mila's birthday. Though those two could not be more different, all mutual loveliness and heart filling selves aside. 

***

She's quite a character. She's sarcastic and clever and quick-witted and there's not much that can knock her off her feet. But she's also sensitive and caring and sweet and loving. She loves Criminal Minds and scary movies. But she also loves Taylor Swift and chocolate covered pretzels. She stands up for what she believes in and she's smart and confident in herself but she respects other opinions and she doesn't have a mean bone in her body.

She's one of the greatest crescendos God has given me and she's given me unbounded joy simply by being in my life. And about this time almost 15 months ago I was under thin cotton sheets after tweeting to her for the first time, nervous because she intimidated me and had a lot of followers and was funny. I'll say it again. My, how we change over time. Because now I see nothing in her but some ungraspable miracle that I've been graced with beyond my wildest dreams. And I love her more than anything.

She's an art that I'll never grow tired of studying and marveling at and admiring and adoring and "oooh"ing and "ahhh"ing over. Because even though she can be annoying, and rude, and frustrating, and completely unrealistic and stupid, she was one of the greatest, biggest things to ever happen to me and she changed me and she taught me--she's teaching me--a whole hecking lot about life and I couldn't ever type words that are worthy of the love behind her.

But birthdays for friends like this deserve memorable posts, and to add that to this post I am going to have to, of course, talk to the one I speak of.

I'll almost certainly mess this up, I can guarantee. I'll publish it and release the link and then I'll read it to myself as she reads it, and I'll think of a million other things I should have added, should have done. But right now, I'm typing and I'm the only one in control of what goes on this screen, so I'll definitely make an attempt, I assure you.

So...

***

Dear Mia,

The way you love makes me want to be a better person every day. You remind me of all that is good and possible in this world, and you center me with everything you do.

It's your birthday. Surprise.

Your birthday. The pinnacle of gratitude for every blessed gift your life has given the world. And the moment this over-reflective friend of yours takes every bit of daily reflection...and stirs it into one beautiful mental montage of who you are, what you've taught me, how knowing you has changed me, what I want for you, and what you mean to me.

15 months ago, I thought you had "an intimidating personality".

Because 15 months ago, you had exactly that in my eyes. But little did I know that that would be the least defining phrase following the subject of your name. Today it's all completely different.

Today...
You have...
...this crazy infectious smile that takes but two seconds to extract from even the grumpiest of moods.
You have...
...a determined spirit, and when you're tearing through this life to demonstrate your independence and occasionally leaving the rest of us behind, I can almost imagine you looking back and laughing at the distance between us. So often, you understand and discover things so much sooner than the rest of us, but you so generously share all wisdom and advice with us and you wait patiently for us to catch up. It's quite beautiful.
You have...
...a special way of knowing when anyone needs love, and you never hold back from offering a simple uplifting word or a confidence instilling hour long conversation about life.
You have...
...the most impressive comebacks and jokes. No comedian has anything on your signature "xD"
You have...
...a wonderfully fulfilling aura that brings me joy and makes me smile.
You have...
...favorite twitter accounts and celebrities and places, numerous ways of expressing yourself, notable interests, repeated routines for leaving everyone in side-splitting laughter, a growing repertoire of lovely words, the best laugh, remarkable qualities for facing challenges and an ocean of opportunities awaiting your future.

You are happy, bright, wise, lively, sunny. You inspire me and fortify me and you are a joy and a blessing and all dreams come true when it comes to dreams of amazing friends.

***

You have gone through so much these past few years. And maybe there's a lot more to go through, but with the amount of strength and positivity you possess, I just know you will conquer anything and everything in your path. You are so strong, and once upon a time, you gave me your strength to borrow when it seemed I had none of my own. I've told you I would one day tell you that story, and I think now seems appropriate.

It was, of course, the time Mila's ask.fm was blown up with negative criticism for me. I remember sitting on my bed the first time it really got serious and my heart was shredded with confusion and pain. Nervous, afraid and alone. And no matter what everyone else told me about how it would get better, I just had to figure it out on my own. And you helped me with that so much. When something like that happened and everything I thought I knew about mine and Mila's friendship was suddenly ripped away, the most solid, truthful, comforting thing in that world was our friendship.

And though you told me about how it would get better and how one day I wouldn't care and how you promise, promise, promised I'd own those critics someday, I think what meant most to me in those weeks was simply consistent love. The time you gave me, the words, the "have a great day"s, the feeling of you always being there.

And somewhere during all of that, I just leaned in. Not because you told me to, not because I was pushed, but because you gave me constant support and love and those things you did, like sticking up for me and asking me how my day was and joking with me? You did those things, and in doing so you reminded me that Joy. Is. A. Choice. Loving by example is so much more important than loving with the right things to say.

You've gone through differently painful things. And you? Well, you'll be okay because you're smart and strong and resilient and naturally equipped with so much to handle life. You demonstrate that to me every day.

***

Your attentiveness and love is, no doubt, obvious to so many, and I see people tell you "you're perfect" or "you're funny" almost every day. I love that, and yet I've been very careful lately to recognize the other qualities that make you who you are as well--your creativity and ingenuity, your free spirit, your imagination and your constant awareness of others' needs. Your personality is complex, and it's important for me to continually embrace the many things that make you unique, because there's so much that I love.

Like your accent that Savanna and I mock when we skype.

Like the way you only send us pictures of you doing beautifully ridiculous faces.

I'm thankful that you can walk and run. Not everyone can walk and run, and we're all blessed that you have strong, capable legs that withstood more than they should have had to.

Your confidence and security in yourself that inspires me and teaches me a lot simply by existing.

Your determination and strength and endurance.

The absolutely bewitching fascination of the way you love your friends. The love you give, the language we speak, the way we smile at each other and joke on skype and it feels so very meant to be.

***

Mia, I hope you know in no uncertain terms how much I love you. Your fifteen little months in my life have reaped invaluable happiness to me. And I can say that... in all the weeks I spent wishing I could be friends with the person who was my sister's friend... in all the weeks I spent thinking about how cool it would be just to talk to you... I never imagined it would amount to this. This beyond magical, beyond authentic, beyond immeasurable friendship that means everything in the world to me. These are the kinds of things I never tell you often enough. You're one of my biggest blessings, and knowing you is beautiful.

And I know I say "beautiful" all the time, but it is. You are.

Everything about you is completely beautiful.

It's difficult to put into words now. You know that, almost 15 months actually separates me from the beautiful day you entered my life. And 22 years actually separates the world from the day you entered it and were destined to do great things. You'll do great things. You're doing great things, just by being you.

And all that you've become in 22 years.

I want to live up to everything I hope you to be.

I hope you know how animated and lovely you are; how valuable your abilities, your love, your mere existence is; how full my life has been with you in it.
Dude, these past fifteen months have been grand. And I love you.

Happy birthday. Happy birthday. I love you.

- Naomi

***

I don't know what else to say. It's just untouchable, holy ground that words could not, in any way, ever do justice.

And it's a choppy ending. But it hasn't ended... it keeps going. For 15 months I've felt that feeling. Maybe not as new or raw, but some days I'm just like... holy crap. She's my best friend. I didn't even know she existed a few years ago, but there she is right there. And I love her so much.

Thankful for life and everything hers means to me.

Thankful for this year, this girl, and this weekend of celebrating her.

I love you Mia.

Fourteen and the "Can't Also" Crisis: also known as A Great Many Things

I used to do a list on my birthday of what I learned that year, but every time I make some definitive check mark as to what I learned, I realize later, "Oh honey, you're still learning.  Don't check it off yet."

I will say that 13 was a great age for recognizing more that weaknesses are really secret strengths. When I am aware of my weaknesses--the things I've spent years wishing I could change about myself--and embrace them without being defensive, I can find ways to use them for good.

Growing older is always a journey of becoming a better version of yourself--a journey that will and must include both happy moments and hard moments.  It's how you weave them together, drawing lessons from both, that gives you the power of creating a beautiful life.

So, I'm 14 now. As in years old.

When I turned 13, I was pretty much arrogant about a lot of things. If I had to choose, I would say year 13 was the most prospective, enriching, terribly sad, overwhelmingly joyful, surprising, ordinary, painful, beautiful year so far. It's astonishing to me, what I learned in year 13.

The year contrasted itself nicely, with important lessons on both pain and letting yourself feel pain and also overcoming it. Growth follows.

So begins the can't also crisis.

It's not just Sad vs. Happy. It's everything. I often pigeonhole myself into categories, as if a girl who wants to change the world can’t also love cute shoes.  Or a girl who sings of the joys of family and friends can’t also want to learn more about independence and solitude.  Or an advocate for a cause of great importance can’t also advocate for a cause of little importance like wearing lipstick or buying art or making crafts.

This little crisis has followed me all year, so much that when I found out about the Spice Girls, I actually stressed out about who I would want to be if I had to be a spice.  I loved Posh’s style, but some days you just need tennis shoes, you know?  Sporty Spice is fun.  And Baby Spice?  I love babies!  And then there’s the bold, can’t-mess-with-me badassness of Scary Spice.  I wanted to be them all.  Which probably explains why I love Allspice so much—Mmmm.  Hot wassail.  I digress.

Who said Posh can’t also be Sporty?  We intersect areas of interest in a million different ways all the time, and that’s fantastic.  We certainly don’t have to be everything (and trying to be is a whole ‘nother story), but if we want to explore a little bit of everything, that’s okay.

So why in my mind, even after thinking and writing about this so many times, do I still treat my loves and areas of interest like people who can’t let their food touch on a plate?  Friendship and business and fashion and faith and family and world-changing and creativity and community awareness and activism and advocacy and home decorating and politics and having fun should all be able to be cooked up in a tasty casserole that isn’t nitpicked by my own need to compartmentalize all these passions that a fourteen year old might have.

I think a little bit of analysis is good—it makes us contemplate our beliefs and ascribe some accountability to our choices.  My sister and I recently got into a discussion about the ways we teach and model what we believe about beauty.  “I tell everyone that what’s most important is inward beauty—that it doesn’t matter what they look like on the outside, and yet,” I argued, “I went to the store twice this week because I’m hung up on the fact that the orange tones in the red lipstick I just bought make my teeth look yellow.”

Maybe it has nothing to do with what I think and more to do with what other people think because, listen—I care what other people think.  I just do, even though I’m learning not to so much.  I find myself struggling to painstakingly find equilibrium with every choice I make today.  Make sure everything adds up, aligns, checks out with what you believe. It’s like I’m looking for errors and contradictions in my own life, and there’s a word for people who do that in other people’s lives:  Assholes.  I’m being an asshole to my own self, and I need to quit.

Do I live in a way that contradicts what I preach?  Maybe in some ways I do, and that's okay.  Everything doesn't have to line up perfectly. Things will align eventually.

Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes)

-Walt Whitman

There's also a paragraph in a book that says:

"…Even when his thoughts are most irrational and dreamlike, his writing follows them.  “I cannot keep my subject still,” he says.  “It goes along befuddled and staggering, with a natural drunkenness.”  Anyone is free to go with him as far as seems desirable, and let him meander off by himself if it doesn’t…(and here’s the clincher)…sooner or later, your paths will cross again."

I’ve come back to that phrase—“sooner or later, your paths will cross again”—so many times.  Shielding, defending, purposely preventing natural human contradictions just to make sure our identity lines up perfectly outwardly is exhausting and, frankly, a waste of energy that could be poured into our loves of life.  When we truly let go and love what we love, without worrying if all of those loves line up, the contradictions will eventually cancel each other out, and our paths will cross again.

If I'm normally inclined to keep all of the food on my plate separated, then this week I made one hell of a casserole with all that I love. Amid googling "mint green loafers", doing extra credit assignments for math (because I'd rather die than get a B on my report card), reading inspiring stories, hiding under blankets while frantically tweeting and making tea, I realized that Twitter.com is one of the biggest contradictions I've ever come into contact with. I follow tens of people that are almost all complete opposites and I love each of them immensely. Talk about Kenny G meeting Jesus.  All of these areas of interest that I normally exhaust myself in trying to connect the dots to dissolve contradictions?  They’re having an Empowerment Potluck together on my timeline, and I’m only invited when I let go of my shit.

Here’s the thing:  when you stop trying so goddamn hard to make the dots connect, they’ll connect.

Be who you are.  Love what you love.

As I tweeted a few days ago: “When you’re not being who you really are because you’re trying to make sure you’re being real, then you’re denying who you are and that, in turn, is not real.”

Don’t try to be good; be good. Don’t try to impact the world; impact the world. Don't try to connect the dots or dissolve the contradictions or explain what it is you love and why. Just do your thing. Be your good.  Love your loves.  The dots will connect, and a beautiful picture you'll create.
***

“The simplicity that you obtain as a result of controlling your complexity is most satisfying.” Steve Jobs

How do we control that complexity?  All those loves, those interests, those contradictions?  We stop trying to control them.  We invite them all to a party and trust that they'll get along with each other and find connections naturally, without our micromanaging.

"Fashion, meet Faith.  I think you two might find something in common.  Simplicity lover, meet Wants to Change the World. You two are totally going to hit it off."

Play Pharrell's "Happy" because that will get everybody dancing.
Stand back.  Quietly take it in.
Don't freak out if not everyone is choosing to act crazy on the dance floor.
Let all those people, all those areas, all those loves, all those parts of you come alive on their own time, in their own way.

A charismatic dancer can also sit quietly and watch from the sidelines.
A humble thinker can also take silly selfies.
An analytical CPA can also dance barefoot in a puddle.
A world traveler can also burrow into the safe comforts of home.
A critical scientist can also write deep, reflective poems.
A woman can read and discuss Newsweek and also The New Yorker, Fifty Shades of Gray, Christianity Today and Scrapbooks, Etc.

Embrace it all.

I am a great many things, and I'm proud of it.

I cry when I read stories of struggle with self harm, or eating disorders, or loss and the coming through of it--it inspires me.
I swear like a sailor on Twitter and censor it all for this blog.
I believe in God, and communicating with him and connecting myself to his purpose is an important part of my life.
I have friends who don't believe in God.
I believe strongly in owning your voice and making a meaningful impact in the world with what you have to offer.
I often feel vulnerable and unworthy of making an impact.
I am passionate about changing people's views on disabilities and disorders and making the world a more accepting place for marginalized individuals.
I read fashion magazines and stress out when my toe nail polish gets chippy.
I love classical music.
I love techno music.
I love Doctor Who.
I love The Walking Dead.
I care about the environment.
I use a lot of paper towel.
I respect Catholic faith and Jewish faith and Muslim faith, though I am a Christian.
I love my atheist friends.
I dream of living on a quiet prairie, running in fields of wildflowers, smiling in the hot sun.
I dream of living in the big city, hosting parties, visiting museums, hailing cabs to our next big adventure.
I want to help people, connect with people, make the sad feel loved.
I like to buy stuff.
I like to make stuff.
I like to give stuff away.
Sometimes I feel so pissed off, I could knock walls down with my anger.
Sometimes I feel so weak and weepy, I could crumble if you looked at me funny.
Sometimes I feel so strong, I'll say whatever I think and not give a shit whether anyone agrees or not.

But all the time, I am complicated--maybe even contradictory.

Ladies--all the Ladies, let me hear you say:  We are a great many things.
(I had a conversation with Mila that prompted me to write this. We can model clothes and also study architecture)

Happy birthday to myself. And my lovely friend Sofi.
Celebration of life.

A Birthday Post

A birthday post.

Upholding a tradition for when any of my friends' birthdays roll around, I talked to Keryna a lot yesterday and then looked at any old blog posts I could find that pertained to her. I reflected on the gift she is and what she's taught me and what she means to me.

I "met" Keryna through Mila, back in the days when I knew her as "K". Good times. I remember she pretended to be superior and I asked her to describe herself, to which she replied "smart, beautiful, rich and popular." (fyi, she was totally kidding but I didn't know)

And I reacted appropriately. Like, maybe I thought about blocking her.

And I DMed Mila and I was like "Dude, I don't like her. She has too much perfection."

I kind of like that memory because it represents me then--I didn't know anything about her. I didn't know that she was extremely sweet and sensitive and wise, I didn't know that she would be there for me constantly, and I sure as hell didn't know that "has too much perfection" would be one of the least defining predicates following the subject of Keryna's name.

Months later:

Keryna has...
this crazy amazing way of thinking that's so in-touch with who she is and what her opinions are, that it'll blow your mind.
Keryna has...
the funniest imitation of accents that leaves me in side-splitting laughter.
Keryna has...
A determined attitude that has her tearing her way through everything, and it'll no doubt take her far in life.
Keryna has...
a special way of knowing when anyone needs love, and she won't hold back from offering a cute snapchat or comforting words.
Keryna has...
the best jokes, occasionally concerning sarcasm that leaves me exploring the option of blocking her, amazing taste, unrestricted wisdom, and she's one of the most beautiful people I've ever come into contact with.

And I suppose I should tell you that Keryna has a lot of perfection.

***

Although she doesn't want to make a huge deal about her birthday, I do, because this is no different than any of my other friends' birthdays. It's a celebration of life. Every day--no matter who our friends are or how many miles of earth separate us, is a day to celebrate life. That's what makes us all the same.

My personal notes to Kery are written in pen and sealed in an envelope in a package I sent to Singapore, but the blog invites the eyes of people from many different walks of life, some who have twitter and some who don't. Some who share mutuals and some who don't. But we all have something in common. We love and we want to be loved, and sometimes, if we feel inclined... we write about it.

So...

Happy birthday, Keryna.

In the past half year that we've known each other, you've given me invaluable happiness. You are funny, free-spirited, kind, wise, beautiful, etc etc. The way your heart and mind work together to take in this world, and yet still give back, is quite extraordinary to behold. You are an angel and nothing in the world can compare to the beauty you've turned out to be in these months. I love everything about you, from your wisdom and sensibility, to your rages of anger and uncontrollable I-can't-believe-I'm-going-to-see-Taylor-live moments.

Happy birthday, beautiful girl. I love you without restraints. I love you so much.

Pajama Glama

I don't get into Superbowl parties, I couldn't really keep up with the Olympics this year, I haven't seen one episode of Pretty Little Liars yet, but the Oscars? Oh, I do the Oscars--celebrating the golden glutes of that svelte little man is fun.

To break down the show:

Ellen
I love everything she does. I like that, unlike many other comedians, she's never mean or disparaging to people for the sake of comedy. I loved the pizza she ordered and the we're-just-regular-folks kind of feeling she brings to the Oscars while still respecting the art and glamour of the tradition. And I liked her sparkly tux.

Best Dressed

Charlize Theron:  Classic and beautiful.

Jennifer Lawrence:  Red siren. Loved that little structured peplum thing on the hips. Love that she tripped and fell again this year because I'm a tripper and a faller, and she pulls it off so gracefully and brings a refreshing realness to the Oscars.  She bridges the gap between beautiful women walking the red carpet and teenagers sitting in their pajamas watching the red carpet. And she does it so good.

Kerry Washington:  Pregnant women win.  Always.  It's the rule.  A glowing, flowing wonderful representation of motherhood in all its beauty at the Academy Awards.

Amy Adams: My friends said "too simple," but I loved her dress.  I thought she looked regal and confident, and I loved the structured details of the dress against its simplicity.  Love that she skipped a necklace and a bunch of arm candy for some simple dangle earrings.

Lupita Nyong'o  It was fresh, it was flowy, it was ethereal, it was amazing. Her dress was like cotton candy but sophisticated.  The pleats, the color, the V neckline. Holy, holy.  

Speeches
3.  Matthew McConaughey:  Probably scripted and memorized to boot but still heartfelt and delivered so well.  Loved his recognition of God and heroes.
2.  Jared Leto:  The way he thanked his mama and all her hard work in being a single mama and teaching her boys to "be creative, work hard and do something special."  Boys who love their moms for the win.
1.  Lupita Nyong'o: Her smile. Her poetic words.  The way she could barely breathe while she spoke.  And I loved: "When I look down at this golden statue, may it remind me and every little child that no matter where you're from, your dreams are valid."  And then she swished away in her cotton candy dress.

At one point in the show, Ellen grabbed a bunch of stars and took a selfie.  She posted it to Twitter and made a note in the show that she wanted to break the record for most retweeted photo in 24 hours.  It happened with over 2.7 million retweets today.

"God, that's kind of sad," I said last night.  "We're so celebrity-obsessed, national disasters and inspirational stories can't compete with a photo of a bunch of stars at an award show."  Maybe that's true, but I decided to put High Horse back in the stable and take Silver Lining out for a ride.  There is something about the movies and Hollywood that draws us in and captivates us.  Movies helped keep dreams alive during the Great Depression and continue to provide a safe escape for so many people who are hurting today.  And many of this year's nominated films hold important stories--things to make you think.  I'm glad we have movies and only hope big stars can use their influence to make good things happen in the world.  Ellen's doing mighty fine with that.

More coming soon for one of my best friend in the world's birthday, which is tomorrow, and things from my real life best friend's birthday party from this weekend.

And by the way, Clara's birthday was yesterday.

Brooke's birthday is in a few days and then we have my birthday, Claire, Mia, Anina, my brother's, Sofi's.

Holiday freak flag unfurled and flappin' like a mutha.