i 
am 
drowning

A few more things that are okay thus far...

I took a really nice long shower.
I cut my bangs super short and they didn't come out too terribly uneven.
I finally took the time to paint my nails.
I ate Nilla Wafers smeared with peanut butter.
Michael found my fox necklace in his place.
I'm wearing a floral print dress, my fuck you to winter.
In a minute I'll be out of the house and doing something new with someone I like.
I don't hate the colors Marie is anymore...

"...besides, I like cakes with butter cream icing."

So, today is her birthday.
The now 48 year old crazy person that I'm still living with, why I'm not so sure anymore, celebrates a turning of age today. She was ridiculous all day yesterday, she'd be nice for a second and then start off on some crazy tangent and start yelling about the most inconsequential shit and not stop. Then she'll sneak into her room, close the door, and get on the phone with some weird guy she's seeing who treats her like crap and yell at him for a while, then she'll come out of her room and stare me down for a while, look at me like I'm crazy, and then yell at me for not having done the dishes while she was in her room.
Anyway, today is her birthday.
I woke up before she did and I put together her present, I stuck the card I hand painted for her on top of the nice pink and orange tissue paper display I had wrapped her gift in, I cut open a grapefruit for her and sliced each section perfectly, then I sprinkled it with sugar and made a pot of tea. I was in the kitchen pouring the boiling water over the tea bags sitting in their big pink pot when she woke up and came in yelling. Before I could even say, "Happy Birthday" she started off complaining and yelling at me because she has piles of stuff everywhere and can't get to them because she doesn't have time because she works hard and has 6 cats (the 7th found a home the other day) to take care of and comes home exhausted so her birthday wish is for me to basically clean up after her, it's her wish for me to do all her dishes right when she tells me to because when I don't I'm being "passive aggressive" and furthermore she can't have people over because I might leave a shoe out sometimes. I don't even try to defend myself because if I do she really won't stop, I don't bother saying that I work hard too and that none of those piles of stuff she's upset about are mine, and that it's not my fault she has 6 cats, and that I don't have to do things right when she tells me to do them especially when she purposefully left me a big mess so she wouldn't have to deal with it. I just let her yell and yell and walk around banging things and slamming doors.
I have an Uncle David. He's not really my uncle but he's one of my grandparent's oldest friends, my grandpa went to Pratt with him, they've been friends for over 50 years. Uncle David is married to Aunt Carolyn, who is also not really an aunt, they live in a brownstone on the same Brooklyn block as Michelle Williams and they're really fascinating. Uncle David collects and sells antiques, he has a business partner and all kinds of strange connections, I think he might be friends with the Queen of England. Things haven't been so easy for Uncle David recently because Aunt Carolyn, who's 75 year old hair is still its natural red, is a raging alcoholic, she has been forever but now that they're really old she's really bad, she's nasty, and weird, and her health is deteriorating, on top of this she has breast cancer and Uncle David has to drive her an hour each way to get 5 minutes of chemo every day. Uncle David is really good at finding the bright side of everything, I saw him recently at my grandparent's house, he stopped in on his way home to vent for a minute about the current state of things, to tell a funny story about Carolyn, to have people listen, all the while he was smiling. I drew a picture of him while he talked, he looks kind of like an old handsome walrus. I really admire him because he seems to be a master of finding things that are okay. Every year he writes this lengthy Christmas letter complete with color photos and he sends it to all his friends and family, my grandparent's and my mom and I are on the mailing list. In this year's letter he writes about Carolyn's 75th birthday and he says, "Frankly, to me it would not have been a birthday party without a cake and more to the point I had seen some I really like in a bake shop in Manhattan and had to get it out of my system, besides, I like cakes with butter cream icing." Then he inserted a picture of a bright little cake covered with colorful flowers made of icing and I felt really happy thinking about this little walrus-like old man who has it tough taking himself out to Manhattan to buy a cake for his ailing wife's birthday because in all of the mess he found something that's okay.
I ate my half of the juicy pink grapefruit sprinkled with sugar in its pink dish, I poured myself a cup of tea in my porcelain cup with a fancy "E" on the front, the sun is finally out and I'm going to spend the rest of today finding some more things that are okay.

rain rain go away

It's been raining all of last night and all day today into tonight. I ate about 5 Madeleines and drank an entire pot of tea. Savoring pot deux. The rain discouraged me from getting out of the house so I've been stuck inside with my mom all day. She's yelling about something and my right eye is twitching a little. I'm stressed. I don't understand why she has to be such a bitch 98% of the time.
The non boyfriend got me some amazing things for Christmas. The boyfriend got me a depressing email. I got the non boyfriend cereal and hot cocoa mix, he got me this book that's in French and I've been wanting forever, it's impossible to find, so impossible that he had to have his aunt who lived in Paris find the publisher and have it sent from Denmark, it took months to find and he had it expressed so I'd have it by Christmas. I can't believe he remembered I wanted this stupid book and I can't believe he went through all of that just for stupid me. I talk too much about the Ramones cover band I'm going to start called "The Moanies" because the Ramones bring me joy. So, he got me this too...
front:

back:

He wants to be my boyfriend, seriously, and I am seriously confused.

merry?

Christmas morning.
I woke up on the other side of Brooklyn.
I can't describe the way I feel but I'll try...
I feel like cookies, and Kiki de Montparnasse, and kisses, and Cinnamon Life cereal, and gray skies, and melting snow. I feel tired, and lost, and homeless, and messy, and tall. I feel bad that I feel great. I feel like steamy showers, and hidden messages, and secrets, and lies, and dreams, and what it feels like to be held. I feel like luke warm coffee, and bare trees, and piles of dishes. I feel like singing a really sad song, getting on an airplane, putting on red lipstick, jumping on a bed, and becoming invisible.

liquid seasonings and cream

Creaming butter and sugar, sugar and butter, creaming creaming, butter and sugar, sugar and butter, sugar and butter, sugar and butter, creaming creaming. I'm making cookies. Specifically the house shaped sugar cookies with lemon icing that people seem to respond very positively to. Each house must be decorated differently, this is because I sometimes have OCD.
The first step to making a really good cookie is to take the butter and egg out of the fridge well in advance so that the butter becomes very soft, but not too soft like how cheating by putting it in the microwave makes it, and so that the egg becomes room temperature. The second step to making a really good cookie is to beat the living shit out of your perfectly softened butter and the sugar. This step is called "creaming" and I think it's my favorite. I like watching the soft lumpy butter fuse together with the sugar and gradually turn into something entirely new. A white, fluffy, sweet, buttery dream. This is before the egg joins in and makes everything kind of gross, this is pure and simple goodness and you can beat it until your heart's content. There's no time limit like there is with some of the other steps, you can't really beat anything for very long once the egg is added, but generally the longer you cream basic butter and sugar, the better. Three minutes at least, I aim for five, it's therapeutic, I promise.
On another note, I bought something new for lunch today, some stupid "chow mein" microwavable shit from Duane Reade. I was excited by the prospect of something new but I couldn't get the packet labeled, "liquid seasoning" opened for the life of me. There was no "tear here" with a tiny little pre-ripped starter, just a bunch of raggedy edges that were impossible to tear into. I was getting ravenous. All of the other seasonings opened just fine and were already sitting atop my newly microwaved noodles. There in an unmixed heap sat the colorful dry seasoning chock full of MSG and salt, it even came with crushed up peanuts, all that was missing was this stupid fucking liquid shit and I could not open it. I had a rough morning, I was supposed to be at work at 6am all week, 4am wake ups are not easy, neither is dealing with people all day, I wanted my crappy $1.59 chow mein and I wanted it that instant. I tugged and I tugged and I tugged some more, suddenly, the tiny packet burst open but I had been prying at its package with such force that the contents flew up into the air and landed not atop the noodles and lonely dry seasonings, but instead all over my jeans and in my hair. Yes, my hair. The stuff was clear, but very oily and left me smelling like what my coworkers described as "instant soup shit" for the rest of the day. The butter and sugar have been creamed, the dough is chilling, I'm taking a nice long shower...
Adieu. Adieu. To you and you and you...

Take me to Assumption Abbey

Saturday, the snow is falling, I slipped twice on my walk home from the train, I didn't fall, snow drifts are distracting, the sidewalks looked like magic. In the course of one Brooklyn block I saw snow twist and fly in the wind, I watched a man dressed as Santa dance on top of an ambulance, and I listened to protestors say something ridiculous like, "Do you think JESUS would approve of the war?" I came home to 7 cats and a crazy mom and a voice message from a boisterous Jewish lady that was half in Yiddish, she had the wrong number but made me feel like my house was beautiful, my husband looks wonderful, and we really need to tawk soon. I drank some orange juice, I played with a little black kitten, I opened a box of new shoes that came in the mail yesterday along with some Yorkie Dinnerware for my trousseau. Can't figure out how to get a picture up so here's a link instead... http://www.urbanoutfitters.com/urban/catalog/productdetail.jsp?id=16686313&itemdescription=true&navAction=jump
I got the bowl and the plate, they're perfect.

Now I'm ordering a fruitcake online for my Grandparents that was made by Trappist monks in Assumption Abbey, a link is necessary... assumptionabbey.org listen to that chanting, soooo good. I'm listening to some sweet chants, learning about monastic life in an Abbey in Iowa, and simultaneously ordering a delicious fruitcake, I'm happy.

Work that rum you little monkadoos!
Later I'll go to my 3rd holiday party of the year wearing a red mini dress with a white collar and indubitably look like Santa's slutty grandkid, Michael is going to want to kiss me in front of everyone but I won't let him even though I'll want to too.
Saturday, snow is falling, and I'm having a really good day.

three red coats, one black kitten

Dearest Sant E. Claus,

I haven't been so good this year. In fact, I've been really really bad. Really bad. Caps lock might convey the gravity of my badness... BAD, seriously. You seem like a nice guy though, since you see me when I'm sleeping wouldn't you like to see me in this?:

Now, I know this wouldn't exactly help me be good, but good is boring, don't you agree?
I thought so.
If you could get me a decent sized apartment sans cats that'd be super too. I won't push it though, start with the underoos, then we'll talk.
You're the best Big Red, cutest too, I dig the beard.
xoxxxxxxx
emily M.
Brooklyn, NY

winter weirdness

Things are getting weird.

I feel wobbly when I walk, last week I tripped up the stairs in the middle of a subway station and killed my knee.

I got a holiday bonus and spent all of it the very next day. I now own 3 red coats. Excessive? Fuck you.

I'm hardly ever home anymore and this morning I did something I really should not have, that boy seduced me and I feel quite a bit like shit. How did I let this happen?

I modeled for my boss Wednesday night and drank lots of "Sweet Bitch" wine, look for it in your local Crown Heights liquor store.

Thursday night I saw the most pathetic excuse for an art show. Listen up all you so called "artists" out there, it's not okay to paint a canvas green, throw some sticks and string on it, and call it a work of art, bad art makes me fucking crazy so stop making it.

There were lots of people dressed as santa walking around lower Manhattan and drinking in public yesterday, a girl dressed as an ornament gave me a KitKat bar.

I ate lots of feelings today.

CAUTION: after eating a chocolate popsicle you may turn different colors.

I'm scared to finish "The Elegance of the Hedgehog", it's been sitting unfinished on my desk for the past month, I refuse to finish or to start another book, some things should last forever, this book is one of them, go read it but don't tell me how it ends.

I haven't bought a single Christmas present.

Laundry is getting out of control.

I told 3 different people I'd do 3 different things this Saturday, I want to do all of them but it's impossible, clone me please.

One of these days I'm going to fill a subway car with paper snow flakes, it's an idea I've had for a while and it's going to happen.

Say no to flu shots.

Say yes to belgium waffles and milk shakes and sweet potato fries.

I love you a bushel and a peck.

Monday morning updates

I lost our book and my great grandmother's silver cow pin. I'm so mad at myself I could scream.
I drank 2 and a half mimosas, 2 shots of tequila, 2 coronas, and didn't come home last night.
My arm is peeling and I don't like the colors Marie is now.
Japanther said "please don't kill yourself" and I cried at a show for the first time in my life.
He kissed me.
I don't have a mon-fri 7-4 set schedule anymore. Today I work 12-8 and I'm most upset about not being able to eat lunch with him.
I want to wake up in his bed every morning.
There are now 7 cats in my house.
I haven't heard from my boyfriend in 4 days.
I'm all kinds of confused.

I held a hand and I liked it

Last night we held hands. I said it wouldn't happen but last night, under a full moon, it did.
How could something so innocent feel so illicit?
We were walking, it started to rain, our umbrellas were up and imposing, I wanted to feel closer so I looped my arm around his, the way you would a close friend, we walked this way for a while. I was yammering about my mother's insistence on skipping out on hiring a babysitter and taking me to all her Al-Anon meetings as a child, I didn't realize how strange this was until I said it out loud, I can still recite all their mantras. For him I recited my favorite, "Keep coming back, it works if you work it, so work it, you're worth it!" He thought this was funny and asked if my hand was cold, it wasn't, but he wrapped his gloved hand around mine and we continued to walk, I continued to talk, the rain continued to fall, and my mind was busy. There we were, in the middle of Brooklyn, holding hands for all the world to see, I felt exposed, like at any moment my boyfriend would fall out of the sky and break up with me because there I was, standing on the edge of the world and holding the hand of someone who really cares about me, someone I think I really care about too. I'm afraid of what's to come. I realize how completely inane and juvenile this all sounds, but we held hands. I said I wouldn't, but last night, we walked down a street, under a full moon, in the rain, holding hands. People saw but I didn't want to stop. We held hands and I think I liked it.

find things that are right

I should write a book compiled of quotes from my mother. In the past half an hour I've heard her utter some pretty profound things like,

"I could sit home and watch Desperate Housewives tonight, but then I'm just going to feel like one."

and

"Okay. I've got money, mace, I'm good to go."

.... sentences like that are golden.
Sunday night and I feel like I'm dreaming, maybe because I spent most of the day sleeping, but really I don't know what's going on or where the weekend went.

Here's a list of some things that are wrong:

• I'm alone...
• Well, there are 6 cats roaming around my house. 
• My boyfriend (who is already away and impossible to get a hold of) left for a month long European tour with The Adicts and a bunch of girls and it feels like he's taken up residence in a commune on Saturn. 
• My non boyfriend continues to worship and adore me and I continue to like it, still no physical contact. I am mean and apparently "a tease" but really my head is in a million different places at once, I can't tell up from down anymore, and all I want to do is love someone who is there but I don't know how... 
• I went to see family I hadn't seen in many many years last night, my cousins on my dad's side who are all older than me, mostly married with children chain smokers with heavy Brooklyn accents. I've distanced myself from that family for a reason, last night I remembered why. 
• My father got mad that I went to see my cousins instead of going to see him and his kids and his 26 year old wife who I've never met so he continues to call, not because he wants to talk to me and ask me how my day/week/life is, but because he wants to pressure me to become a part of something I don't feel okay with yet. 
• Then he had the 26 year old wife, who I'm pretty sure is the author of some anonymous hate mail I received after my grandmother died while I was in Berlin last, call me to confront me asking why I won't go to their house, and if she makes me uncomfortable, and to tell me that she couldn't have possibly written that letter because how could she hate me if she's never met me?
• I ended up in a heap of tears on my kitchen floor for a while and remembered why I stopped talking to him for 5 years. I'm thinking I should go back in for another 5. 
• I haven't been able to draw a decent house all day and it's making me crazy.

Here's a list of some things that are right:

• I rode a motorcycle in the freezing cold wearing a borrowed leather jacket, a giant helmut, and some leggings as I held on to someone who's heart I will break. The cold wind pierced through my skin at 60 mph and I hadn't felt so alive in weeks.
• On Tuesday the Marie Antoinette I've had unfinished on my arm for almost 3 years is finally getting colored in. 
• Black Friday didn't feel so black and after work I went to the American Folk Art museum and MOMA, it was perfect.
•  I took 2 Tylenol Extra Strength Rapid Releases and they took the pain away. 
• People may actually see my artwork now. You can find it in an Urban Outfitters newsletter, permanently tattooed on my friend's thigh, and on this website http://www.flickr.com/photos/flypelicanfly/ see moleskin collaboration and pick out which ones are mine. 

Illustrations of above mentioned:

My ex boyfriend is kind and Alex is brave.

  
she'll take her everywhere...

becoming red in the MOMA 
pretending to be Winona Ryder in Edward Scissorhands, also in MOMA

feeling slightly famous.

dog show

It's Thanksgiving, the dog show is on, in a few hours I'll be sitting around a table surrounded by my family staring at a giant dead bird, they will ask me what I'm thankful for and I won't know what to say. I've been stuck in a very dark place the past few months and I don't know how to save myself and it scares me. Every day I suppress this sadness, I'm really good at pretending everything is okay, but when I have any down time all the feelings I've been trying desperately to keep at bay come out in a shitstorm of tears and fury, maybe I'm unstable and weird but I think I'm finally ready to admit that I need help.

you feel farther than the farthest star in the sky

The Upper Crust

My landlord is making lots of noise in the hallway doing I don't know what. Scraping something, then hammering something, then scraping some more, like nails on a chalkboard. I'm getting annoyed.
I saw this band last night (after the rooftop and the naps, and the absence of hand holding). They were dressed exactly like this and sounded like AC/DC, who I don't particularly like, I had gone to see the bands that played before them, who were better, did not sound like AC/DC and were certainly not dressed like this. Someone threw a filled beer can at the lead singer's head, it was the manifestation of my inner desires and it was a marvelous thing to watch.

Saturday, Sat, Urday, Sa, Turday... confessions

Hello Saturday!
I'm thinking of you, though I shouldn't be.
I'm listening to The Kinks which makes me think of him but I'm simultaneously thinking of another him. The him that took me to the roof yesterday and showed me the sun setting over the trees and tall buildings surrounding Central Park, neither of us had our cameras but we took pictures with our eyes. We've never kissed, we've never held hands, I see him almost every day but we've never even hugged, we're strictly friends, but once, in the middle of the museum, you rested your head on my shoulder because you were tired and I was making you stay awake. We went to your place for naps, me on your couch, you in your room, you covered me with a big blanket and woke me up in time to walk me to my friend and then walked us to the rest of our night, you told her to make sure I got home okay and to be mindful of my two drink limit because you're always there and you always give a shit. You made us a book, you're an artist, we're going to exchange drawings every week, we have a list of restaurants and places and things we want to go to and see and do. Lots of girls want you, yet you spend your time with me, the girl with a boyfriend who has never given you anything, not even a hug, why do you do it? Why are you so nice to me? Why do you treat me the way I wish he did?
We're friends. We're just friends. Friends friends friends. I'm not thinking of you right now. I will not kiss you, I will not hold your hand, I won't even give you a hug.
I'm not thinking of you right now.
Right now, I'm not thinking of you.
I'm not.  

ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?!






I need a hug.

This morning's train ride I reminded myself that

prostitutes are people too.
people who talk to themselves and sing along to their ipods are people too.
drug addicts are people too.
people who obsess over Twilight are people too.
sleazy men who I catch eying my legs at 6:30am are people too.
people who's arms are so hairy they look like they're wearing long sleeved hair shirts are people too.

people are people are people

On Saturday my world looked exactly like this

Listening to The Modern Lovers and tuning everything else out

My mom came home from Monday night therapy and she sounded like this:

"Your stuff has to live on your chair. I need my wine chair. Did you go out with Sean? I thought you were going out with Sean today? Did you stay late at work? Did you eat something????"

I need to get out of here, and soon.

Maybe I'm the idiot.

Austria, you're alright.

Not all that long ago I was here:

Further proof:

I was in Austria and I was happy.

I saw interesting things like this:

And I ate gross things like this:

It was warm and sunny but once I got stuck in an amusement park during a thunderstorm. I sat in an Austrian pizza place where I could safely watch people run umbrellaless in the pouring rain, then I felt sick and was afraid to go on any rides.

Oh, and there's an Ice cream shop that has this in front:

It spoke to my heart for obvious reasons.

But Facebook, I'd rather not.

It is a strange thing when facebook suggests you write something on the wall of a friend you have who is now dead.
"Help make Facebook better for him", those soul-less bastards over at facebook insist.
They shouldn't suggest such things.
It's really depressing.
Unlike just about everyone else in my generation, I'm trying really hard to get by without needing meds.
Thanks for helping to make the drug option look increasingly appealing assholes.

I broke your grandma's snowglobe

You know when you're certain that everything in your life is going to change but you don't know how and you can't say when? You know it because all of a sudden nothing looks like how it did before but you can't say why. It's like your little life is in a snowglobe, things turn upside down and you're watching it happen under all this water, slowly, you're watching it happen but there's all this sparkly shit in the way, this makes everything interesting and beautiful but confusing and mysterious and sometimes frustrating. Sometimes I wish I could fast-forward, I want to shake the globe so fast I can see past all the sparkle, so I know what happens. Change is scary, it's completely necessary, but terrifying, I'm freaked out. Maybe if I just knew what happens I wouldn't be so afraid?
Maybe I should grow a pair and live.

What if we all woke up one day suddenly able to fly?

October

Carry me around like a giant pink backpack
Take me with you wherever you go
Watch over my contents, hearts are irrecoverable
zip me up, keep mine safe.

 

glow girl

When it's 6:32 in the morning and you're sitting on the train wearing black polka dot tights and eating the most delicious puffy buttery bagel, so gooey and warm it melts in your mouth, the events of the night before still crisp to your senses, they're popping all around you, making you glow...this is when life is beautiful.

What Do You Know?

Tell me something new and exciting.
Tell me something I haven't already heard.
Tell me about your day.
Tell me all about your life.
I'll tell you something old and boring.
I'll tell you something I already know.
I'll tell you about my day.
I'll tell you all about my life.

Build Yourself A House

I like drawing houses. I don't know why exactly but there's something comforting about linking a series of straight lines, knowing that every line is going to turn into something big, something with structure, something everyone can understand and relate to, something that in a small but significant way speaks to the soul. I refuse to use a ruler, my lines are not perfect and the final result is never wholly symmetrical, but each house has character, each house looks like a home, each carefully drawn but imperfect house is satisfying both to look at and create.
I am drawing a house with tiny black lines, and inside I'm beaming.  

Are you there God?

It's me, Jesus.

On refusing to eat and feeling alive

When I get upset, I wash dishes. Sometimes I'm so upset that I can't see the water pouring from the faucet through all the water pouring from my eyes. They fuse together to form a sort of Niagara Falls in my kitchen and the effect is rather calming. Washing dishes is the perfect thing to do while upset, for one thing it's a mindless task. Pick up sponge, pour neon green liquid over sponge, run under hot water, watch foam slowly take over sponge, grab dirty plate, rinse plate, run foamy sponge over plate, rinse plate again, arrange clean plate on dish rack, repeat. Again and again, sometimes with a fork or a crusty pan, but always monotonous, familiar, simple, clean. Now the mind has been given a break and your hands have been given something to do. You're upset, but you're not being upset under a blanket somewhere, you're doing something productive, and somehow that makes you feel better. When my tears run parallel to the faucet, when my hands are covered in warm foam and the water is so hot it burns, that's when I feel alive. This makes my mother crazy though. I won't talk to her about what upsets me because she already thinks she has everything all figured out. How can you tell someone what's going on in your head when before they ask you they first tell you? You can't, so you say you can't talk and go wash dishes and refuse to eat. This makes her say, "Nothing is going to get better by not eating." and "Have some apple stuff so I know you're still alive." But you are alive, because here you are, you're washing dishes, you've successfully created Niagara Falls in your kitchen, you and the faucet are in sync, you and the dirty plates and forks and crusty pans are all being cleansed in scolding hot water and when the ritual is complete, your hands will tingle, you'll feel it, and you'll know you're still alive.

try getting lost today

found on flickr

More Halloween Please

I've always thought it strange that society has become so obsessed with defining favorites. It seems that if you can't ramble off some memorized favorite things then people decide you must not know yourself very well, or that you're "boring", but I think that's ridiculous.

There are lots of things I like, but I could never pick one favorite of anything, not because I'm boring or indecisive or unsure of myself but because I think it's really limiting to be tied down to one favorite color, one season, one book, one movie, one artist, one band, and one favorite thing to do on a Saturday. Don't you? I think that if I really thought about it, I could find something I like and don't like in everything, or things that I like equally, I could ramble off 5 favorite artists but I could never pick just one, they're all so different.

Well, that being said, if someone was to ask me what my favorite holiday was, I'd tell them I don't have a favorite anything, (which is always met with a quizzical look) and then I'd say that there are a few I like a lot, Halloween being one of them. Today just happens to be Halloween, a holiday that has always been one of my favorites. Here's why:

• Conviviality. Halloween is one of the only holidays where everyone gets together and does something, the 4th of July is another but it's not nearly as much fun because nobody ever looks too ridiculous and I'm not so interested in fireworks or national pride. Aside from that, it seems like every other holiday everyone is always cooped up inside with their families, what I'm sure is a torturous task for most people.
• Parties. Everyone either has a party or knows someone who's having party, or knows of a bar that's hosting a party, in this way, everyone has something fun to do where they'll be surrounded by people who don't look like themselves.
• Personal escapism. Halloween allows people to get in touch with their creative side, and to become someone else for a day, this is a really nice thought and I think everyone needs an escape from themselves every so often.
• Decorations. I love everything Halloween themed, everything, carved pumpkins, black cats, witches, I love love love love it and I love seeing it everywhere, decorated on lawns and in windows, in every drug and convenience store, it's wonderful. When I was little I couldn't wait for October because it meant I could go in our cabinet filled with seasonal decorations and pull out all the Halloween ones, I'd help arrange black paper kittens poking their heads out of jack-o'-lanterns, giant paper candy corn, and the silhouette of a witch flying on her broom, then spend the rest of the month admiring my work.
• Candy corn. nuff said.
• History. Go research the history of Halloween, it's fascinating.
• Memories. I can't think of a bad Halloween ever, in fact, some of my favorite memories (I say memories because I don't have a favorite memory) all happened on Halloween.
• Halloween is magic. It's true.

write write write, then write some more

Maybe I need two blogs.

Yes, maybe I do.