There are certain blogs that I read only when the moment is perfect. I’ll skim through a post, like the gist of it, click the little heart and wait. I’m waiting for that moment to go back and read it. That moment when I’m lying in bed at 2 o’clock in the afternoon and it’s snowing lightly outside and I’m eating too much chocolate and listening to Dinah Washington. That is when I think to myself, “Now is the perfect time to read that post I wanted to read. Now is the perfect moment to bring it up and devour it and say, ‘Yes, yes exactly' about every other line. Let's do it now.”
There are certain blogs I save just for days like this, when I have the time to really enjoy them, and afterwards when I finish reading them I have the time to look out the window for entirely too long thinking about love meaning pitch-perfect dialogue, and then wondering about how longing for movie-like drama had so totally ruined so much of me, but then thinking maybe I’m getting the hang of it now that I’m 26-years-old which lately has felt so old, like I’ve grown some new, older-person perspective on Life.
Yeah, I’m going to look out the window some more.
If there’s one thing I hate, it’s people.
when I have something i need to write, I always take a bath, no matter the hour, then get completely ready as if to go out on a date with my brain. Put on some melodramatic music that makes me feel like I just killed a man or filed for divorce. Shake from the latte. Do anything else I possibly can. Write anything else I possibly can. Make sure my makeup looks good in the mirror. Make sure my headphones aren’t messing up my hair. Find out that they are but hopefully in a charming way. Stare at myself in Photobooth and consider whether this is the face of someone who has anything important to say. Doubt my very existence, my ability to make a point, or to stand by it. Why do I not write outlines? Who do I think I am?
Reason #1697353 to love Meaghano: THIS.