#babes is actually too good to be a miserable worm girl

[eldenturtle]

Next topic:

Martha Jones was doomed to fail from the beginning by being too confident and mentally stable to understand why a situationship had the doctor down bad for so long.

Also you people should accept that Mickey is a good character and that them being together was a nice way to conclude their stories.

He’s not the tin dog. He’s a revolutionary.

She’s not a companion. She’s her own doctor.

They free themselves from the doomed romantic narrative they had found themselves in. Both are excellent examples of finding life after the Doctor.

[calif0rnia-lovers]

Michael B. Jordan Alphabet: A is for Arrest.

We’re starting off the alphabet with a lighthearted story. I can’t just hit ya’ll with the gems just yet.

“Am I in trouble?”

Your husband’s question should not make you smile, but it does. Most women would be upset, or at least slightly irritated if their husband stumbled into the house at three in the morning. Drunk for that matter.

You were upset when you’d gotten out of bed to meet him by the front door. After finally getting your son to sleep merely two hours ago, you were ready to kill Michael if he woke him up. You were ready to give him an earful. Demand to know why he hadn’t called to share that he was going to be late, or why he hadn’t stayed with Sterling for the night instead of maneuvering L.A. while drunk.

But with alcohol in his system, Michael had found the simple task of taking his shoes off to be extremely difficult. So, when you storm down the stairs you find him seated on the floor. His back is resting against the door, his left shoe tackled and poorly discarded in the general direction of the living room. With his eyes closed, it’s apparent he needed time to regain his strength before tackling the right shoe.

He allows you to take off his other shoe before offering you a smile and his hand. Removing your hand from your hip, you tug against his hand and pull him up.

Even through his drunken haze Michael is smart enough to know his smile is strong enough to soften you. Which is why he keeps it on as you ponder his previously asked question.

”You’re working your way there,” you admit, skillfully avoiding the kiss aimed for your lips. Pressing against his chest, you hold out your hand. ”Keys, please.”

”I didn’t drive.” Holding up a salute, he managed to wipe the sloppy grin off his face long enough to get out a ”Scout’s honor, ma’am.”

Digging into the front pocket of his jeans, Michael releases a chuckle as he steals a quick kiss before dropping the keys into your palm.

“If you wake up your son, you will be in serious trouble,” you warn, the sight of his smile making you suspicious. ”I’m serious, Mike.”

”Well, ” Michael huffs, his hand finding your hip. “I guess you’ll just have to go ahead and arrest me now because I plan on keeping you up for at least a good hour.”

“Arrest you, huh?” You can’t help but roll your eyes at the confidence in his voice. Judging from his current state, you highly doubt he’ll make it up the flights of steps leading to the second floor without your help. “And do what? Teach you a lesson?”

”Yeah.” Michael’s response is muffled against your skin as his lips press against the crook of your neck. “Might even let you use those handcuffs I got you.”

You giggle as his lips briefly press against yours before you catch sight of an all too familiar set of dimples.

“As tempting as that sounds, I think we should focus on getting you to bed safely.”

His grip on your hand diverts your attempt to lead Michael to the steps. Pulling you away from the steps, and into his chest, Michael wraps his arms around your waist.

“Come on, babe, I’m trying to spice things up.”

Your eyes roll as he reiterates a phrase from breakfast. A phrase that hadn’t actually been spoken to Michael at all. In fact, it had come up over mimosas and girlfriends talking about their marriage and kids.

"That was just girl talk-”

“Well, fuck girl talk, I’m gonna give you something to talk about.”

"I'm actually fine," you giggle as he kisses you. 

In his drunken confidence, Michael's body wants to move faster than his mind can comprehend. Because just as you’re trying to return to poorly placed kiss, Michael is ducking down and lifting you into the air. Your gasp turns into a string of giggles as he turns and attempts to tackle the steps.

The act that would have been well above effortless for your sober husband wasn’t executed as effortlessly as he wanted. Instead, the alcohol in his system led to Michael stumbling a few steps forward as your arms tightened around him.

“Put me down, now.”

“Babe, relax.” His voice full of concentration, Michael simply tightens his grip around your legs as though him gripping the stairwell banister for support should ease your nerves. “I’ve got this.”

Pulling the both of you upright, Michael manages to climb up the flight up the steps and to your bedroom in one piece.

“Mike-"

Your remaining words are cut off as you fall back. Nothing better than having the wind knocked out of you. Michael’s weight crushes you into the mattress as you both struggle to find a comfortable position while somehow remaining entangled. It only takes you a few seconds to understand that the uncomfortable position the two of you were settled in is because Michael was failing miserably at unbuttoning his shirt.

Pushing himself up in frustration, Michael grips his eyes closed as the motion of hastily fumbling out of his shirt jumbles his mind. You watch as he pauses, blinking a few times before discarding his shirt over the side of the bed.

“Do not throw up on me!” You warn pushing against his chest, only your action makes him nuzzle closer.

“I’m not,” he mumbles as he worms his way out of his jeans.

“You sure?”

"Yeah." Shifting so that you can meet his gaze, Michael rolls his eyes. The grin on his face was probably meant to convince you, but it didn’t help. Sensing your need for a little more convincing, he adds. “Aren’t you my wife? You’re supposed to take me at my worst-“

“That doesn’t mean I have to risk you throwing up on me."

With a soft shake of his head, Michael pauses to place a kiss against your lips pulling out a smile.

"...stomach of steel, baby..." The pressure behind his lips becomes lighter as they press against the crook of your neck. “Love you.”

You feel his movements slow as his arms wrap around you. Burrowing his face against your neck, the drop in his breathing causes your eyes to open. Letting your fingers brush against his hair you shake your head as the soft sound of his snoring replaces the silence between the two of you.

“Give you something to talk about,” you giggle.

[whatscallion]

I'm sick and miserable, so can I have a prompt where Wanda is sick and Bucky elects himself to be the one to take care of her because he can't get sick and then they bond? Or something like that, idk man. I trust your writing.

//- ABIIII. I hope i did okay with this!! It’s also your reward for finishing off the semester yaaaay!!! Congrats!!

Pairing: Bucky x Wanda

The noise coming from the living room didn’t sound like it was coming from a human. If James had to be perfectly honest, he’d admit that there was a chance a dying goat was in the living room. While he’d say that to anyone who asked, he wouldn’t say it to the person who was making such a noise, if only because there was a fear she’d scratch out his eyes while he slept. His Ma raised him better than to say rude things to pretty girls, anyways. Sadly, that couldn’t be said for the rest of their friend circle.

Natalia, who lived with Wanda, opted to stay “innocently” in the Barnes / Rogers / Wilson bachelor pad. Steve and Sam both protested helping with excuses bordering pathetic, citing an important exam two days from now, or a blind date. Whatever. It wasn’t as if Buck wasn’t clueless when it came to taking care of others - a childhood friend of Steve “contract everything under the sun” Rogers with a nurse mother tended to educate - so this could be easy. It was just a head cold. He’d been under the impression that stereotypically, women weren’t as pitiful as men when it came to any kind of illness, but wow, he was mistaken.

Wanda was absolutely pitiful as she remained hidden beneath three blankets, only able to see the television through a hole she made … somewhere in the pile. It was cute. James could admit that much. It was pretty cute.

Maybe that’s why he’d offer to help her out. The other excuses were to pacify the curious few who figured James had ulterior motives. It wasn’t at all like that. While he could further admit that when Wanda was in good health, she was absolutely drop dead gorgeous, he knew when a girl was out of his league. Smart, funny, legs for days - they were all his weaknesses, bundled up in one Romany woman.

She wore red fairly often, and he couldn’t help but notice. He found it was his favorite color recently, though it wasn’t something he’d tell anyone for fear of brutal teasing.

“Wandz,” he started as he sat down next to the sentient blanket burrito, setting the two bowls of chicken noodle soup before them. “I know you’re awake.”

All he got in a reply was a sniff, muffled from deep within the cocoon. All the boy could think of was how adorable that was. Quick on the heels of that thought was a very blatant one: she’s going to be the death of him one day, whether she knew it or not.

“Come on, hun. You gotta sit up and eat some soup. It’ll help you feel better.” He couldn’t help but wince as the dying goat noises started up again. “I know, I know. You don’t feel well. I know. But you need to eat something. And probably drink your tea.” He looked over at the mug with a subtle frown. “You really haven’t moved, have you?”

“No.” There was finally an actual reply from her, and if the odd noises didn’t make him feel pity for her before, actually hearing her voice like that pulled at every single heartstring he had. “I’m dying.”“You’re not dying, babe.” These terms of endearment had really been slipping off his tongue more than just recently. It felt all too natural to refer to her as something more than just who she was. To him, she was ( at the risk of sounding absolutely cliche ) everything. Besides, she didn’t seem to mind being called something other than her name. In fact, James was pretty sure he saw her smile a bit wider when he did. He hoped there was a smile under those blankets. “Come on. Sit up. You can lean on me.”

That seemed to work as the huge blanket worm began to move. And just like he promised, she was able to lean on him, but he was still a bit bewildered as to how she was going to eat still wrapped up in fleece and down. So, he took it upon himself to basically unwrap the top part of the mess, revealing a very sick, very disheveled Wanda who still made him look at her a bit too long. Even with her curls messy, even with her nose stuffy, even with her smile pouty - he still stared at her like she was nothing but pure sunshine.

“Mornin’, sleeping beauty.” Was he laying it on too thick? Probably, but considering how down she was about being sick, she might need it. “Or afternoon. I’m pretty sure you’ve slept for two days straight.”

“I’m dying, Bucky.” The way she said his lifelong nickname sounded more like “Booky”, and he wasn’t about to make her stop saying that. Instead, he gave her a very sympathetic smile and put an arm around her. Wanda immediately put her head on his shoulder, not caring if any hair went in his face. He wouldn’t complain. He never did. “I’m dying at the tender age of 23.”

“How many times do I have to tell you you’re not dying? Come on. This is Ma’s recipe. It’ll warm you up. You need food.” Reaching out, he took the bowl off the coffee table and held it out for her. Thank god she was receptive, finding a way to get both her hands out of the blankets to hold the bowl on her own. “Theeere you go.”

For a bit, they sat in silence with only the dialogue of ‘Friends’ sifting through between them. In order for Buck to eat, he had to actually pry his arm off Wanda, which was just saddening in his mind. When else would he be able to do that?

“I think I’m Monica.” It was an abrupt distraction from the show, which was fully exploring the neurosis that enveloped the arguably smallest of the Friends cast. It was enough to make James shake his head.

“If anyone, you’re like … Phoebe. Easily a Rachel.” Maybe he was laying it on too thick, but compliments were good for the heart when she was, as she claimed, dying.

“No, no. Definitely Monica. I’m annoying and bossy and controlling.” Just when he thought she couldn’t sound any more pitiful, she went and sniffled while looking down at her bowl of soup.

“If you’re Monica, I’m definitely Chandler. You can’t change my mind.” To be fair, Buck had always thought he related far more to Chandler while everyone thought he was a full-blooded Joey. But the truth got her to smile a bit - just a little lopsided as she brought her eyes up to him. Honey colored eyes looked as glazed as a Krispy Kreme donut, and that was when he figured it was probably time to get her some NyQuil.

“You’re Mister Bing? I always thought Joey for sure.” Wanda actually sounded lucid, which made him feel better about how she was doing.

“Everyone does, babe. I like to let them think I’m all about ladies and food, but … I don’t know. I feel more like that guy. And no, my dad wasn’t a drag queen.” That was enough to make her hum a chuckle, which made the center of his chest warm.

“You’re my Chandler,” she murmured, looking back at the television.

“And you’re definitely my Monica,” he stated, very matter of factly.

[elise-by-year]

Written on the body: 2016 in photos.

,(This is the latest I have ever written this post, but the theme of 2016 has been “please be patient with me, I’m doing the best I can,” so it seems sort of appropriate.) 

New Year’s Day 

“What has been really nice about this year, I think, is that I kept a lot of it to myself. I spent time with the people that mattered to me and I didn’t feel like I needed to explain why things were important to me.” 

This is how I wrapped up the end of my 2015 post. The first hour of 2016 started with a boy yelling at me outside a bar, demanding to explain why I would want to be alone when he was willing to be my boyfriend. I went back to Moira’s apartment with Mae and Katie, where we snuggled up in one bed like we had done so many times in the nineteen years behind us. Later that day, Frank came over and fulfilled my Christmas wish for girl power and a gypsy curse (Hunger Makes Me A Modern Girl and a rusted sailor’s compass that spins around despite sitting still are sitting on my desk at this very moment). We had a horror movie marathon and killed a bottle of Jameson while we ate baby carrots and screeched on my couch. 

So, really, the first morning of 2016 started with this thought: Don’t let people who treat you unfairly stick around. Take a self portrait and move the hell forward.

January 

Photo: Juliette Sandleitner 

Photo: Alyssa Roth 

The rest of January was really good to me, despite some hard stuff. 

I went on a secret date with a mutual friend that turned into a lot of dates. I was advised by a lot of people not to, but I’m still glad I did and hope he’s glad too. I  went to a housewarming party that ended in me standing outside my ex’s house while it rained sideways and I tried to reason with myself. I don’t remember why you ran outside or what we talked about, but I remember hoping we wouldn’t have the opportunity to talk again so I wouldn’t need to keep choosing over and over. I decided that there is no real time to say good bye and that the things you love will eventually just stop showing up. 

A big snowstorm hit. I spent the better part of it walking through the streets with Frank and Finley, drinking bad whiskey from the fish flask and being grumpy old men. I drove up to the Ghost Ranch the moment the roads cleared and spent the day drinking basil gimlets in a snow fort and shoveling out people’s cars.

I went to Maria’s house to have a silly afternoon of shooting and eating burgers with her, Alyssa, Juliette (who I had not seen in over two years), Annalise, and Eden. All of the snow from the week before had melted almost overnight and it was warm enough to walk around without a coat. 

Other things about January: Mae and Katie and I founded B.Y.O.M. (bring your own mom), which basically just meant getting blitzed off $2 margaritas with our moms. I went to visit Max and saw the “woods behind my house” that I had been hearing about for the better half of the year and watched The Prisoner. Mae and I went to brunch a lot and got a matching pair of parking tickets. I started working at a tequila bar with Frank. 

Most importantly, maybe, was the beginning of the thought that I wasn’t doing what I should be doing. 

February 

“Rabbit, Rabbit”

February was another big month. I housesat for my godfather and spent a week and a half with my golden retriever babe counterpart, Mollie. Mae and I got accidentally-on-purpose mimosa drunk and met Cory Booker at a Clean Ocean Action rally. Max came to visit; I cut his beard and showed him Pershing Field, where we saw the best sunset I’ve ever seen in person. I took my shoes off and broke some pieces of ice in the ocean with my bare toes. 

I made a weird (but, in retrospect, funny) mistake, had a bad day, and saw a different sunset in the same spot with Frank. Mae and I got into a fight and made up. It snowed again. I made a bunch of Star Wars valentines. I went to Max’s birthday (X-Files pennant in tow) and met twenty people in one night. Meg and I hung out alone for the first time and got a little drunk at a Bond St. music video filming while making new friends and dragging egotistical boys.

I went on the worst! Date! Of all! Time! It’s my favorite anecdote now. I’m still convinced I was on a prank show somewhere.

Frank and I saw Jenny Lewis perform her Rabbit Fur Coat ten year anniversary show, which ended up being one of the best shows I’ve ever seen. I watched Jenny Lewis, tiny and string and mighty, reduced a sold-out 2,900 seat house to pin-drop silence when she sang Happy without a mic. 

Frank and I saw another show a week later (Mary Lattimore/Julia Holter) and ate clementines and giggled about the secacu pail tation and decided that most things in life can be sorted out in the morning (unless you sleep through work the next day, which I did). 

This was also the drunken movie night couch sesh that ended with a reprimand from my mother because she was worried Frank was going to drunkenly freeze to death in the snow walking the two blocks back to his house. To this day, Frank claims my mother is the only one who has ever worried about him actually dying in a ditch.

Excessive amounts of laughing and drinking with Frank aside, I started spending a lot of time alone and celebrating that. I started a little series about documenting my life alone vs. with a partner, as this was my first year alone in almost four years. 

I went to the Cold War Surf party with Brie and Dave and spent most of the night talking to their friend about PA school. I hadn’t seen Dave since the summer and I hadn’t seen Brie so happy in a long while. I went on a date with a photographer the next day and left early because I felt sick. He said leap days cause bad luck and universal unsteadiness, but I told him it was just a  hangover. It was the flu. 

March 

Spent the first week of March melted to my couch with the flu. I shook myself out of it just in time to make a job interview and meet Vicky for her week back in America. We spent too much money on burgers in Crown Heights, but I was so happy to see her and so sad to say good bye. She played me a love song she recorded on her phone while I battled my way through Brooklyn traffic to drop her off.

My flight for Anna Kate’s wedding in Georgia was the next day. It was my first time taking a plane on my own and my first time being a bridesmaid. It feels a little cheap to write about this now, honestly- I think I felt better in four days than I’d felt all year. I finally got to see my best college friend’s town and house and family and meet her in-laws. Everyone was so kind and warm and accommodating (even the Georgia weather) and I really felt a great deal of sadness when I left. 

Back at home, it snowed a little more and I showed Frank and Finley my secret beach. The tide was too high to make it to the voodoo bunker, so we stuck a pin in it. The pin’s there for now, along with other things. We started spending a lot of nights in his backyard raging with the fire pit, baby carrots, and a witch of the wood. 

I spent a lot of March in a weird place and living in terms of “this time last year.” It felt like there were a million other Elises living their lives differently just out of my periphery. Still with Alex, still in school, someplace I couldn’t imagine. I knew I didn’t want any of those things, really, but I got caught up in the missing and the wanting instead of trying to change my life. 

I was still seeing a person I shouldn’t have been seeing, letting myself feel guiltier and guiltier. I went to Meg’s show in West Long Branch and drank a milkshake (because I wasn’t through pretending I wasn’t lactose intolerant) and it was sick-sweet and I sat on a barstool sick and sweet and sad, a stomach to match a mood. 

Brighter side: Mae and Frank and I went to see Girlpool, found a Jurassic Park themed bathroom in a pho place, and didn’t get ticketed parking in Brooklyn. My two best friends got along so well and it made me feel appreciative and lame and lucky. 

I think March is when I started seeing a reporter, but I’m not sure now. 

April 

April was good and bad. I went on a lot of interviews for jobs I didn’t want, went on a lot of dates with a reporter I liked, and went for a lot of walks with different people. My anxiety was mean, uncontrollable, and manifested physically most days. Wilco got sick at the beginning of the month and I spent a lot of time curled up in bed with him, which was something I needed almost as much as he did. We were both tired out and needed each other. 

I turned 24, and it was the first birthday I wasn’t sad about for a long time. Mae, Brie, and I celebrated two birthdays at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden and had the nicest day. Mae made me a Twin Peaks necklace on the laser cutter and I don’t think I’ve ever been more careful with another piece of jewelry. 

I had lunch with an ex and they asked me to come back, which I could not bear to consider. 

Still, I was happy. Things were nice, and I was happy and appreciative. When things were good, I felt like if all of life were that nice, I wouldn’t appreciate anything. The bad days made the good ones, if that makes sense. If I woke up miserable and cranky, I knew I’d be better for it, because every nice thing might feel even a fraction as good as a truly good day. It’s a backwards way to live, but it was how I was living at the time. 

I saw Colin Hay with Mike, the reporter, and Frankie Cosmos/Eskimeaux with Frank. The Frankie show was the first time we were one of the oldest people in the audience, and we celebrated by eating Cracker Barrel and wearing plastic sandals. We also spent a lot of time raging in the backyard, firing up Finley, and witching in the woods. One day I met all three cats, hung out with his whole family for the first time in the longest time, and we found out worms move really fast. Like, really fast, guys. Also, a tub of pretzel rods that had been moving between our houses finally met it’s bitter end. 

I don’t know how I forgot about this until now, but Frank and I also saw Rihanna the day before my birthday and then followed it up with a visit to the Wonder Bar on my birthday, which was much less eventful and involved leaving Frank to talk to someone from high school while I danced. If a human look could convey that shriek R2D2 does, that would be the look Frank was giving me at that moment.

I went to visit Max again. We split a turkey sandwich, helped his mom set up a printer, and went off-roading in the pine barrens.

Erica and I tried to go biking at Sandy Hook, but I popped my tire shoving my bike into the trunk. We walked up and down the bayside of the hook, flew kites, and visited the voodoo beach before it got dark.

Went on a few brunch dates with Mike, accompanied by some of my friends and then his dog and then alone. He was a good sport when Mae and Taylor accused him of being a murderer for having two phones and his dog’s name started with an L and that is honestly and truly all I can remember about this person I knew for the better part of two months. 

May

The Dead End Kids \m/ 

May was filled with work and friends and more work. Starting with work: I began my stint with the escape room, which proved to be a nonstop hell ride where I met a handful of really good pals, including Shayne and Laura. It’s also where I started put all of my weird feelings and doubts to bed, which was a good feeling after a long time. I also started working at Stone Dog, a female-founded scenic shop that had just moved to my hometown. It was good to be doing carpentry and design nonstop with patient and fun coworkers. At this point, I was already making plans to go back to school, so the enormous pressure I had felt at my previous creative jobs had up and vanished. I felt nervous, free, excited for my life, and happy with a secret. I was still at the tequila bar, but I was working most of my shifts with Frank and had hit a happy groove with my routine. 

My mom and I got drunk at mother’s day brunch and my dad needed to pack us into the backseat to drive us home. I was still seeing Mike at this point, I think, and other Mike (my favorite bartender) asked me about him. We broke things off a week later for lack of feelings, and I wish every conversation could be as easy as that one. 

Katie graduated, which left me in happy, proud tears. She came home and slept for a full day. 

I went kayaking with Erica and her (at the time) new boyfriend, Timmy. It was the last time I saw her with blue hair and the first time I saw her so happy with a partner. They’re still together and, while I don’t see her as often lately, I’m happy when I think about where she is in her life. 

Waj joined the Peace Corps and had a going away barbecue before he left for China. That was one of my favorite nights of the summer. Mae and I decided to bike (which was a way better decision when we were sober and not drunkenly trying to get uphill so we could go to bed at 2 am). We started a wheels gang called the Dead End Kids with Jake, Nick, Luke, and Paul. Little did we know, we’d be starting the summer’s most potent curse, but more on that later. Anyways, it was nice to reunite with people I really, really loved while saying good bye to one of our best. 

I had many more backyard nights with my great aunts / wiz bang gang / goo goo dogs  (Frank + Finley). 

June 

When you realize you matched your outfits and your ice cream cones 

June started off in Annapolis, Maryland, where Stone Dog had sent me for a set install.  I would go on to install an MTV set a week later and throw up in a gender-neutral bathroom between raising Hollywood flats a week and a half later.

Robbie graduated, which was one of the best days. We had a graduation party two weeks later with our whole family, which was weird and surprisingly nice. Colin and Ashley also had a barbecue to celebrate their new house and engagement. 

Mae and Frank and I went to our second big concert together (well, Northside Festival). We saw Wolf Parade, ate vegan ice cream, played with tiny hands and street sharks, and laughed way too much and often. We also all matched outfits like any proper girl gang. 

The biggest update of them all came in June: telling my family about my intention to go back to school and become a physician’s assistant. To save time, here’s my post from June about it: 

“After a year of working perfect, career-making carpentry and set design jobs, I’m realizing the reason I’ve been miserable for five years hasn’t been because my personal strides in life and mental health haven’t been good enough. It’s because I truly hate what I do. 

I love carpentry, and I love art and design. I feel the small rush of job satisfaction every once in a while, but it shouldn’t take a 24 hr Thanksgiving Day Parade shift to give me joy. This career has only made me feel small and useless, and my contempt for feeling like what I’m doing doesn’t matter has only grown over time. I’m twenty four. I shouldn’t be so consistently unhappy with what I’m doing. I should have been feeling joy when I was nineteen and going to school for set design, not utter annihilation.

I can blame my professors or that one summer or sexism in the workplace, but I can’t make excuses for all of those nights when I was eighteen and nineteen and wishing I had gone into the medical field. I can’t ignore being twenty two and twenty three and twenty four and feeling like my life was over and that I had made the biggest mistake of my life. I’m so young and I have so much velocity and I will never, ever have as much energy as I do now to make a change. 

I’ve had the best possible run in the art field and will continue to do so while I complete the undergraduate prerequisites required to pursue being a physician’s assistant. I know this sounds like a big announcement, but it really isn’t- I just need a small outlet (this blog) to take a baby step and feel like I have a little support while I transition into a new part of my life. 

I feel good. I feel so good. While I was in college, I didn’t plan for growing up and being an adult with a career. I planned on being a girl who would die from depression before I ever needed to make longterm plans for happiness. The past few weeks of planning have been some of the happiest days of adulthood I’ve ever felt. I feel so renewed and I can’t wait for it, all of it- studying and volunteering and going into a new career humbled and vulnerable and ready to learn.

Anyways, there it is- somewhere.

It’s time to lean the hell in.”

So, there it is. I was finally moving forward, registering for prerequisite classes, and seeking out EMS shifts for my volunteer hours. I’d been planning it for months, but I knew I wouldn’t have much time to think once I started. I was keeping up my hours at escape room, working on designs for a new room, and counting on that job to carry me through classes. 

Other things: Getting close and then very far away from a coworker and friend, putting all of my trust in the wrong people, a drunk girl reading my palm from the sidewalk outside the bar, and the end of a long soreness while I watched someone I cared about very much fall in love. 

July 

I didn’t take a single photo with my camera in July. July was a rush of plastic bag cellphone photos, cherry-stained teeth, and fourteen hour work days. Work at the escape room was both really good and really bad. I was getting closer to Shayne and Laura, managing my own schedule, and had a constant influx of weird projects and challenges. It was, however, coming at a cost: growing anxieties about being around people who both wanted and despised me, dealing with our crook of a boss, spending too many hours and too much money, and not prioritizing other things. On the bright side, I did get a perfect grade in my first responder respiratory class.

It was around this time that Frank and I started talking seriously about moving in together, which is sweet and a little dumb in retrospect. I had just agreed to take on five more years of school, so I don’t know why I thought shaking up my living arrangements could be in the cards for me. We also had an incredibly uncomfortable third of July, giggled about handwrittens, and saved the backyard witch from burning.

Mae moved home and started working on the boardwalk, so I spent a lot of time running her hoagitos and taking walks up and down the boardwalk alone until she was done closing up shop. Thoughts on Mae at this time: “Super thankful all the time for a best friend who constantly makes me feel like I deserve everything, even if I don’t feel like I deserve her when we’re apart.”

Also: Modest Mouse x Brand New at the Mann in Philly, which involved mixing Mae / Brie / Dave with Shayne. Also saw the Dolphin clan (and actually, now that I think of it, this may have been the last time I saw Max). 

Frank had to drop out of our Panorama plans last-minute, so Mae and I had an unbelievably cool day on Randall’s Island. We ate popsicles, stood in lots of lines, and proved that we could find a pair of hammocks in literally any environment. We saw The Front Bottoms, Kurt Vile, and (in one of the few self-actualizing moments of my short life) LCD Soundsystem. It was a hundred degrees, but it turns out Mae’s longtime wet neck bandana trick had actually become a fashion staple in 2016, so we fit in with the best of them. 

Also: Went on a few dates with the local candy factory owner’s son, was still too old for me, can never visit Old M’ Candies again. 

Also also: Started the most ill-advised project with Shayne and Luke at escape room. The only positive was getting to build things (like a glow in the dark table) and a lot of gin and tonics. 

Also also also: Ill-advised lifeguard stand kisses at Birthmae, starting another cycle I do not regret. 

Also also also also: Wishing I had listened to A and kept someone at an arm’s length. 

August

August was mostly good, partly bad. The “mostly” is the things that happened and the people I spent my time with, the “partly” is everything I let myself get caught up in. 

I met a girl in a bar that told me ghosts come in intervals of three years, and I thought about that a lot in the coming weeks. Felt raw and wide open to things that were far behind me and let myself get caught in that cycle of grief. 

Was still at escape room every day, fighting the good (and sometimes petty) fight. Shayne and I started taking turns throwing knives into the wall and spackling the holes back up a lot, at least. We also packed in a car to Pennsylvania to see Frank and Sarah in their play. 

I went to Colorado with my family and saw landscapes I hadn’t ever seen, took too few pictures, and spent most of my time profoundly distracted by my future.

Mae and I saw a lot of movies on the roof of the Baronet, Dave and I finally saw our overdue Night Vale live show, and I made more and more ill-advised decisions I just cannot regret. 

I finally drove up to visit Loretta after a year or two of phone conversations, KFC and white zinfandel in tow (her request). I was only the second visitor she had since moving into the nursing home a month and a half prior. I didn’t know how to explain her to my friends- “my dead friend’s grandmother” just didn’t seem appropriate, but “a friend almost four times my age” didn’t either. 

I also had my first friend date with Laura. We split a basket of fries with a dog on the patio of Bond St. and then waited patiently after that dog fell asleep on me, went to a show at the Parlor Gallery, visited Mae on the boardwalk, and got our futures read by a group of chain-vaping psychics. My psychic said I was full of darkness and stone and that my sister’s name started with a K. Laura’s psychic said she would marry someone soon and we both cackled our way down the boardwalk. 

Had my last backyard rage night with Frank in August. It feels stubborn to write it down, but. He was falling in love and that was a good thing.

We got sushi and sake drunk and he decided to go fully vegetarian, so that was Frank’s last memory of fish.

September 

(One day before breaking my foot) 

The very first things that happened in September: becoming the fourth victim of the Dead End Kids summer of ‘16 curse. After that polaroid was taken, Nick broke his collarbone long boarding, Jake broke his entire body long boarding, Paul broke his elbow longboarding, and I broke my foot in four places longboard jousting. (I named my longboard Lance, both for the 90′s gay undertones and the jousting). Mae and Luke made it through the rest of the year unscathed. 

So the rest of the fall happened on an air cast, which was weird and embarrassing and my second time on crutches in two years. 

I started Medical Terminology, my first class since my decision to go back to school. I was tired and broke and broken, but that class made me feel like my life was moving in a good direction.

Luke and Shayne and I were close to finishing up our escape room, exhausted and dead inside. This is probably the last time I’ll mention it. An entitled boy made me uncomfortable and unhappy at every opportunity. Work in September was the most negative part of my life (my year) and I don’t really care to think about it more than that.  

Shayne and Laura and I continued our Monday Fundays, playing lots of shuffleboard and drinking too much gin for a weekday. In a weird way, I made more friends in a cast than I did without one. Alex started showing up, which was easy and weird and nice. We spent some time talking about a girl we both loved a whole lot and I remember feeling like it was a stroke of unbelievable, overwhelming luck for life to work out this way.

The second annual Maker’s Fest happened, in a new location and three times the size as the year before. Mae was doing henna, so I bopped (clunked) around catching up with vendors and talking to new ones.

Mae and I celebrated our twenty year anniversary living across the street from each other and being best friends. I get real sappy talking about this and I’m trying to keep this all business, so here’s some thoughts on that: “My best friend has been my best friend for 5/6 of my life and that fraction is just going to become wider and deeper as we get older. Mae is one of those people that make you marvel at the capacity of your own heart and wonder how you could ever love someone more than you do right now and I am so, so profoundly lucky to have her in my life.”

Frank and I saw Bruce Springsteen play his longest show in history, a record he broke the next day and the next. He sang every favorite, every B-side, every song we’d driven through downtown Freehold blasting at 3 am since we were 17. It was unbelievable. It was also the last significant period of time I spent with one of my best friends, so I think about that night pretty often.

Also, I spent a lot of time on the beach shivering and finding the seven sisters. 

October 

“Your chest is wide open and yawning and you heart fills the room it inhabits and I wonder how you aren’t eroded away to dust by now.”

October was getting to know someone new, really trying to make myself a little more open to make space for all of the new people I cared about, missing my best friends, and trying to take pictures. Despite the good stuff, I was feeling very emotionally spent.

Became closer and closer with Shayne, was happy and appreciative for life throwing me a person so good. Thought about the cyclicality of my life and relationships, how I was making another dent in another passenger seat as my space in another faded away.

We left the bar one night and kept driving and ended up on the dirt JCP+L road I had found a few summers before. We watched fog roll over the pond and parked in the middle of the woods to look at the stars. I marked “star night- shayne” on my calendar so I wouldn't forget it, but it seems cheap to try and write about it now.

Shayne and Laura and Alex and I went on a last-minute vacation to Sleepy Hollow on Halloween weekend. I don’t think Elise from a year ago would believe that, and if she did, she wouldn’t buy that I had a genuinely good time. We watched bad horror movies, had an outdoor fire, and worried about getting murdered by our preppy Airbnb host. Apparently Hillary Clinton was walking around those same woods that very same weekend, but we didn’t see her.

Dan and I went to a Devil’s game and took loads of embarrassing pictures. I stared to realize that I was slowly becoming a partner.

Mae and I went as Neve Campbell and Bruce Campbell for Halloween, the closest to a couple’s costume we had ever gotten. It was the first time I had seen her all month. Halloween was a weird night for me ultimately, but Mae was the best part.

November 

“the earthly and obvious parts if me are touching your face and repeating a strumming “this is a person who loves you”

but there’s a loop, a pause, a gap in the human condition 

endless separations and connections, tidal and vascular 

falling out of orbit is much easier than fighting your way back in”

What can I say about November? Trump won the presidency, Dan and I spent the weekend hiking, I broke up with Dan, and I spent a lot of time alone on the beach. I got my cast off, put my bare feet in the sand, and waited for clarity. 

All of my siblings were home at once. Frank and I went on a walk, I worried that Finley would not recognize me, Finley knocked me over. There’s a lot to say about fish flasks and nerves and secrets multiplied into a shared burden twice the size, but I won’t say any of it. It had been a long time and I felt sick and sad and nervous. 

I took a self portrait I really, really liked. It was one of those portraits where recognized myself. 

Still, November was a month of disconnect and I wondered how many hearts I would dig through before I found my own.

December 

December was long and happy and lazy. 

I made two knives, applied to jobs, babysat my golden retriever counterpart. My siblings and I were in the same house all at once. I got strep throat and spent four days glued to a bed. I got the highest grade in my medical terminology class and my teacher asked me to apply to the school she worked at when the time came. I missed Frank, Mae came home.

Lexi came to New York with Jesse and Carl. I took eight pictures, learned how to play pool, and talked about my hometown too much.

I wrote this, and it’s all I can bring myself to say about the rest of December/my overwhelming luck:

“sometimes I feel so pitch-black, so lacking and longing

you are so unconcerned with my surface and shortness and shortcomings and I just do not know how you are so gasping and wide open, so ready for me at any moment

and I think of the constant draft, the tiny bites on rawness that you must feel to be so vulnerable for me at all times”

What can I say about 2016? It already feels so far behind me. I guess there’s a simple logic to doing a year in review in 2016 and not nine days later. Time is pushing ahead and I am too. It’s the same belief that keeps me honest with my loved ones: “Say it all now, because you are running out of time.”

I never know what to do here. Usually I get to the end of my review and feel heavy with loss or exhaustion. Sometimes I’m angry, and I can feel smoke ribbons coming out from between my teeth and making knots in the air around me. It’s hard, digging up the evidence of your life month-by-month and trying to put words to the sum of your parts. You think you have the shape of it, that you’ve smoothed it out into something you can understand, and then a sharp edge catches your finger and you’re bleeding all over again. It’s hard to be honest, to look your past in the eyes until it blinks first, and it’s even harder to be surprised by it. I am so many different moving objects all at once, flickers and beats and wanting. My past isn’t going to stay still just because I want it to.

This year feels different. Does distance grant clarity, or does change? Was this an easy year, or was it just productive? I went into this year looking over my shoulder, waiting for the things I had pushed aside to catch up to me. I realized that the thing I feared had already happened to me and was getting further and further away as time moved on. I realized that making a mistake did not mean I needed to waste my entire life trying to adapt to it. I started to let people grow on me instead of holding them at an arm’s length. (Actually- I really, really loved the people I loved and started to love myself just as much or more.) I let myself make mistakes, indulged in tiny failures, and built a lot of furniture. I hustled, I planned, I rode my longboard. I got good grades (grades!) and got stoked about school. I feel weird and good, even if things look a little shaky and transitional written down.

Here’s how I ended my 2015 year in review:

“Anyways- 2015 was really, really good to me, and I was really, really good to myself. I don’t have expectations for 2016, and I don’t have any goals besides pushing forward. By this time next year, I want to be looking back and remembering 2016 as hard and good progress into a life I want.”

And here I am. I already know 2017 is going to be about hustle, change, and working for the things I want.