Cellar Door

Driving to Maine last night was like passing through a W.B. Yeats poem.

GPOY.

After moving four full-sized beds up three staircases today, I think it’s safe to say I’m going to bed feeling very much a badass.

(that and my arms are sore because I haven’t worked out in two months HAH) 

What does one do when one finally, and terribly, runs out of space for books?  I AM IN CRISIS.

See: me + every cat ever

(Source: h0gwarts)

How is it that my birthday’s in two weeks?  I’m not done being 18.

I can’t even begin get my head around all this right now.  The only word for it all is ‘surreal’.  

So now I’m going to get in bed and read some Silmarillion.  By tomorrow morning I’ll probably have to remind myself that this whole evening was an actual thing that happened.  Until then, goodnight.

(also, if you look really really closely- and I mean real close- you can see me in the middle of the middle)

The past few days have left me absolutely convinced that my life is the most impossibly blessed of things.  There have been moments, exquisitely fleeting, that have etched themselves into my bones, and my veins are running swift with magic.  I feel full of praise.  I feel, too, like an incandescent, sparkling, precious thing- neither of this world or those of ages past.  I am this, I am now, I am yes.

Attempting to woo through email correspondence.  This feels like a You’ve Got Mail moment, except I feel nothing like Meg Ryan.

The most romantic night of my life involved—

• a magic dress
• Germans, lots of them
• three entirely too drunk friends
• a 9 year age difference
• one and a half cocktails
• the winning of a bet
• the beach, the moon, the stars
• a 4 hour conversation about politics, religion, & other things your mom tells you not to discuss in polite company
• zero lip action

and I can’t even pretend to be surprised.

In exactly 16 weeks I’ll be singing in Carnegie fucking Hall with Eric fucking Whitacre.  Tell me, when did life get so surreal?

I’ve been so horrible about journaling here.  Let’s amend that, shall we?

Today was one of those days where I felt incredibly and impossibly alive.  My fingertips tingled with sparks of sunlight, the air whispered secrets to my skin, and each breath I took felt full with the ceaseless, undulating harmonies of the universe. 

Packing up boxes for these past few days has inspired nothing but a new-found loathing for tape guns.

Drove back to the movie theater after forgetting my purse there last night, cell phone and wallet included.  Failed reconnaissance mission.  Left my name and number, drove away, drove back after realizing I’d left my cell phone number, which obviously, is now lost and therefore useless.  I am not on my game today.

But on the up and up, 50/50 was good, seeing people for the first time in a long time was even better, and apparently nothing thus far has been charged to my card.  Trying to have a little faith in people?