Today is a very special day. It’s Andrew and I’s *one year engagement anniversary*! Let us collectively squeal in the name of love. He actually just popped upstairs to kiss me. I often avoid going downstairs to vacuum out of laziness and I’m marrying a guy who walks his ass upstairs for no reason other than to kiss me. He sees I’m deep in thought, and instinctively puts water on to make me tea. Sometimes the greatest love language is a whistling kettle after a taxing day.
(Ours is electric and does not whistle but that sounded cute and trad, right?)
For this most divine celebration, I specifically told Andrew no cards. He writes me the best cards for every occasion. But tonight, I legitimately just want to like, sit naked facing each other in a candlelit room and TALK. About us and our future. About life. I don’t know. I can feel you cringe reading this. I’m just an evangelist of intimacy in its simplest forms, even if we have to plan it in advance. (Adds iPhone reminder: “8 PM - sit naked”)
This song “Lucky Girl” by Carlina has been stalking me lately. It’s not about love, really. More of a soulful spin on TikTok manifestation babble. The kind of song girls with nose jobs and rich dads use as the backdrop to “get ready with me” videos. Anyway, Carlina sings, “all good things come to me, flow to me, move through me, everything works out for me.” I think a lot about what it means to be a “lucky girl” because I’ve felt unlucky for so long. But when your lover’s face is the most reliable antidote to self-pity, you actually start to feel like good things come to you… flow to you… you get it. I’m grateful enough to know Andrew exists. But for this life we have built, I’m a lucky girl.
Just Watched: Ocean’s Eleven. I’m slowly chipping away at a list of big movies I’ve somehow not seen. This one was fun. It reminded me that when it comes to actors, I am so much a product of my generation. Timothee Chalamet who? Give me George Clooney, Brad Pitt, and Matt Damon. Bye.
Thinking: You know how people often resent the groups they belong to? That’s me with healthy people. God, where do I begin. I spent over two weeks this month without a sip of alcohol. That’s not a long time for me, but it was a milestone in that I actively chose not to drink on multiple “drinking occasions” (Phillies game, work happy hour, etc.) Every time someone would ask me to drink, I’d be like, “I’m actually not drinking right now,” and they’d ask why, and I’d say, “no clue. I just feel called not to.” It was the truth, yet I hated hearing it come out of my mouth.
Then on Saturday, before my 14-mile run, I begrudgingly put a little sunscreen on my “problem areas” (chest, face, shoulders). It was the Right Move given the weather and still, I felt like I was giving into something. Like, I get the risks of sun exposure but maybe I want to go out charred.
I’ve also been forgoing my nighttime bowl of ice cream these last few days. And wouldn’t you believe it: I’ve been sleeping better. Who knew not having 35g of sugar before bed renders one blissfully unconscious the whole night through? I knew. Because that’s pretty obvious for one, but also because I’m a generally health-conscious person. I love it… and yet I hate it. I hate rules. I hate rigidity. I hate thinking about the “consequences” of everything.
Much of my writing centers on making peace with your own degeneracy. Celebrating it, even. This often involves treating your body like the smoking section of a 90s Cheesecake Factory instead of a temple. But then I’m drinking green juice and paying someone to teach me how to run faster and actually telling the doctor my problems and it’s all too confusing to bear.
Podcast Find: Speaking of wellness, I’ve been fascinated by Blue Zones for years. If you’re not familiar with Blue Zones, they’re the areas of the world where people live the longest and healthiest. The five Blue Zones are: Okinawa, Japan; Sardinia, Italy; Nicoya, Costa Rica; Icaria, Greece; and Loma Linda, California. This 2018 episode of The Doctor’s Farmacy features Dan Buettner, the foremost voice of Blue Zone research.
Listening to: I lied about being in my Eras era. I’m actually in my $uicideboy$ era. Music rules my life in so many ways. I don’t want to call myself a stan (I’m a stan), but when I slip into obsessive territory with an artist, I’m truly locked in. Like, I won’t spend my time defending them on Twitter or whatever, but I will meticulously explore their discography, watch every interview on YouTube, etc. I did this with Led Zeppelin in 7th grade. The Velvet Underground in high school. A certain very canceled DJ in college. Then it was Rezz. Ariana Grande. Tommy Genesis. Lana Del Rey. And I’m doing it now with $uicideboy$.
I think a lot of emo rap is corny and juvenile, but $uicideboy$ transcend genre. The NOLA natives turn heavy subjects like depression and addiction into something addictive in itself: that distinctly southern, white trash flow over the best production you’ve ever heard. It’s like the love child of Korn and Three 6 Mafia. So if you see me with a face tat, I promise there are no bodies hidden in my yard; I’ve just listened to “1000 Blunts” a thousand too many times.
What I wore: This incredible floral shirt I thrifted years ago, paired with my pink Balenciaga, AllSaints wide leg trousers, and Maybelline Super Stay Ink Crayon in shade “accept a dare.”
I think admitting that pink is my favorite color the other week has really gotten me back in my color bag. We’ve been brainwashed into thinking neutrals are the mark of chicness. Of course, the discipline and anonymity and gothic allure of all black will always be dear to my heart. And a cream look screams “I own a bungalow in Joshua Tree where we eat macrobiotic meals and make soaps and scrubs from imported oils.” But color is rich. Gripping. Memorable. Color INVOKES. I see a woman in the wild in some fuchsia frock and I automatically believe every word out of her mouth. She has traveled to remote corners of the world, seen tapestries woven by wise, old hands. That’s color to me.
When I met my fiancé, he wore exclusively neutrals. I had 15 tie-dye tshirts, and he made me get rid of over half of them. Sure, some had gaping armpit holes. Most vaguely smelled of sweat after hundreds of washes. But collectively, they were an expression of my deepest sartorial sentimentality: a rainbow of strangers’ stories, hand-plucked from dirty Goodwill hangers, worn with love through parties and festivals and runs and slumbers.
Loving: Beading. I recently got a seed bead kit, and Andrew and I have been making necklaces. My original motivation for beading was that I kept almost buying jewelry that I knew I could make myself. But it quickly became this wonderfully meditative practice. It’s really nice making something with no real goals and definitely no income generated. You can just sink into the act and enjoy it for what it is. Here’s one I made that says “whatever” in Italian. The colors remind me of the wild berry pop tart.
Recent Eats: The last time we spoke, I was surviving mostly off of frozen Trader Joe’s meals. I’m pleased to report we are back in the kitchen with a mf vengeance. I’ve made some amazing meals that I’ll share soon in a more comprehensive way, but my favorite thing was probably English muffins from scratch. They were easy and perfect and something that felt really cool to say I made myself.
Big slay on 1 year since the engagement!! I need to give the $uicideboy$ a chance but I think I’ve avoided bc it feels daunting to get into them (or anyone with a large music catalog). Also re: beading – I bought each one of my groomsmen a CD that reminded me of them. And then Elizabeth and I made beaded bracelets for them with some kind of reference to the CD. It’s one of my favorite memories from our extended wedding szn lol