Lust

There are words I'd like to write but am too distracted by the windows shaking from the wind. There is a blizzard in the Midwest, my darling Midwest, and warm, spring rain here. I'm missing Chicago, wishing I could afford to visit for a few days around Christmas. Alas, adulthood will not permit this.

A very close friend of mine has just become engaged and while I'm very happy for her it is an odd feeling. Most of Jon's friends are married, have children, are getting divorced or what have you and most of mine are still figuring out their lives. But I suppose we are all growing up, slowly, but surely. It is that forever feeling of being stalled where I am; waiting for real life to begin, to start law school and a family. Though if I stop to think about it, I already have a little family. Jon, Keats and I. Small, but happy. I'm not sure if this is adulthood or pretending but for right now I am content.

Will it be

It is Saturday night and I sit here rewatching a show that I was too young to understand the first time around. It involves a creek. I say no more.

Having officially entered 9 to 5 hood this week, I welcome doing little. The morning was spent sipping coffee with Jon, finding more nonfiction on the American Revolution--my new favorite obsession-- and buying a tiny bunch of wildflowers from the farmers market. Keats discovered he is able to jump on the kitchen counter which is not at all surprising but rather disheartening as it was the last place to put any valuable object he might get his paws on. Alas, he is unstopable.

The new job is something I have not made my mind up about yet but it doesn't exactly look promising. We will see. My mantra is 18 months. 18 months and then we will be far, far away. Waiting and waiting.

Peppermint

Washington, D.C.

It is deeply gloomy outside and while normally I like nothing better than this sort of weather with coffee and a good book, today it only matches my mood. There are so many things that have become uncertain and I fear that my sounding board, Jon, has become tired of my verbal hand wringing. I've never been very good at friendships. For whatever reason I can never seem to hang on to close friends. And while the people I've met in the city have been lovely, for the most part, I wouldn't say any are true close friends. The kind you can call up anytime and have over for coffee, do nothing but talk and be comfortable in one anther's presence. I'm more than lucky to have found my wonderful companion but, sometimes just sometimes, I ache for the sort of conversations you can only have with a best girl friend.

I've been burying myself in studying and books. About France in WWII, the American Revolution, love letters of poets. I'm searching for that feeling of being so overwhelmed with a text that you cannot see beyond the page. It has been too long since I've felt that. And the days are long. Long and seemingly endless yet somehow they bleed into one another with the weather as the only demarcation of time. The yearning for elsewhere is so strong that it causes me to lose my breath. I feel so unattached, like I may float away. That might be nice.

Le Soleil

I'm always so full of words and when I open my mouth there is nothing. Some important things have been decided. I've withdrawn from Pratt, gone on several job interviews, and will be applying to law school for the fall of 2012. The for ever academic is becoming the esquire. I am thrilled and terrified and full of logic games.

So to ignore life for a bit, Jon and I departed briefly for the Bahamas. Not typically our type of vacation, Jon the albino wonder boy and me the dark loving lady, but it was interesting. We are both more than excited for D.C. in a week. Talk of buying our own house there, of the cherry blossoms we perpetually miss in New York but will be sure to see in our capitol, and the beauty that is an actual campus. So many changes in such a short amount of time. Keats is excited too.

La Belle Dame Sans Merci

These past few days I've walked miles, had no thoughts, and yearned for thunderstorms. Storm, now, storm.

Mornings

This past Saturday was my 22nd birthday and I must say 22 is looking better than ever. Jon planned a lovely day of gardens and chocolate and too much incredible italian food. I am lucky to have spent the past four birthdays with this man.

There have been lots of changes, seemingly small, going on here lately. I've been wary of talking about them as it seems I am fickle (I am) and unfocused (I am not). What it comes down to is, simply put, more schooling. No more New York. Hopes of grandeur. Places I never thought I would be, we would be.

September it is my turn to take Jon out on the town, thought not our town. For my wonderful man's 30th birthday we are heading to D.C.! A trip full of high hopes and history. Have already found a kitschy hotel smack dab in the middle of the action and am planning on making friends with the Lincoln memorial and sampling all the cupcakes at Georgetown Bakery. We are both hoping this trip is a harbinger of things to come. Fingers crossed for a reason to relocate in the near future.

It is difficult to have so much up in the air. Am up for a job that would make the next two years substantially easier though incredibly busy. Working full time, studying nonstop, all the while attempting to obtain my masters in two years. Truthfully, I'm excited. I am not built for boredom.

Onward

Amsterdam, Netherlands

Having left behind Jon for this summer trip, we've (I've) decided to take another one this winter. Two weeks: Austria, Liechtenstein, Switzerland and Italy. I'm very much looking forward to the famous coffee in Vienna, the mountains, the chocolate, the mountains, the mountains, the opera, all of Italy but particularly Venice, and the mountains.

Having grown up in several places, none of them exceptionally hilly, I've had a fascination with being up. I hate heights, don't get me wrong, but I love the feeling of being high above something, looking down and knowing so much is going on but feeling so removed from it. I don't know why, but it calls to me.

I've been thinking about living lately. In the most basic sense; where to live. I've always assumed I'd end up back in Chicago but lately I've been questioning that. Why not Virginia? Why not Georgia? Besides my utter distaste for all that is above 75 degrees, I find the south charming. Wrap around porches and lemonade. Flowers and tree lined streets. But I wonder if this is just a result of being too long cooped up in a city. Brooklyn has become one of my favorite places in the world but sometimes city livin gets to a gal. Always longing for elsewhere, sigh.

Trois Années

This is a bit premature but as it is a rather slow day at work and I in no way doubt that some catastrophe will occur in the next week to prevent this day from happening, I will talk about it now.

July first will mark the the third year that Jon and I have been together. An awfully long time if you consider my fickleness and all around poor behavior. I am annoyed easier than most, get mad at the drop of the hat (though rebound rather quickly from said madness), and am constantly on the defense. These lovely attributes would drive most away. But Jon happens to be the most even tempered man that has ever existed. I swear to you. I have never, ever seen him angry, or yell, or even show a large amount of frustration. I am one lucky gal to have snagged this one.

The summer after my freshman year of college I returned home to too sticky Florida and got my old job back at a too large bookstore. Quickly decided I would make Jon my 'summer project' which turned out a bit differently than I had planned. Eight months later he moved to New York, we moved to Brooklyn and eventually scooped up the wee kitten that turned into the big terror. And here we are. Keats, Jon and myself, the happiest little Brooklyn family one could imagine.

And for those that are curious (and even those who are not) the boyfriend

Those without shadows

While in Paris this past week I wandered into a small shop in Montmartre and purchased a ring. This was quickly followed by a removal of another ring. Not significant in and of itself, but also not insignificant.

Several years ago I happened upon my mother's engagement ring from my father, Carl. I cannot remember how I found it, if my mother showed it to me, or why I even started wearing it, but I did. What is even stranger is that there has not a day gone by that I did not wear it. Nearly losing it more than once, sighing on the rare occasion I forgot it in the morning, and fielding the many, many questions about my (non-existent) engagement. Sometimes I lied, said I was engaged, sometimes I explained the silly story that isn't really a story. It just became habit.

The irony is that I do not know my father. I know his name, I know he ran for senator and lost, I know he has never sent me a birthday card, and the one time in the past fifteen years that I've seen him he had to call me because he could not recognize me in a nearly empty cafe. He is not a good man. And that is fine, there are much worse people, there are much worse situations (I feel awful whenever I bring this up with Jon as his story is far, far worse than mine) and I have had a wonderful life. And I don't bother wondering why I started wearing my mother's (fake) engagement ring from him because I'm sure there is a reason but I'm not sure I care to know. But this ring, silver and simple with what appear to be small thorns around it, has somehow made many things disappear and for that I am grateful.

On y va

Saturday I will be jetting off with my mother to Europe. It was all very sudden and very unlike me in planning (or allowing my mother to plan) our trip. As with many of those recently graduated I had a bit of a quarter life crisis which mostly consisted of me not understanding why I had to become an 'adult' --I'm a firm believer that no one is ever really an adult, that we all just pretend to be one until we have so convinced others that we are--and do things like save my money and think of a real career. Somehow this all culminated in a giant present to myself in the form of a short trip. It started with Greece, then Morocco, then maybe Italy but somehow we, mother and I, settled on London, Paris, Amsterdam. A mere three days in each and then right back home again.

While never really having been to London, except a far too long lay over last summer which resulted in the grouchiest of grouches, me, or Amsterdam, I'm still most excited to be back in Paris. I like to pretend that I lived there. It isn't entirely pretending but saying 'I studied abroad' versus' I lived in Paris', 'I lived in Paris' wins. To explain why I loved it so much is impossible as I don't really know why I did. It was partly the newness of it all, of slowly becoming more confident that I could understand and be understood in this different world, of feeling lonely in the best way possible. Something fit so nicely while I was there and its something I've been itching to get back. So, yes, my unexciting self is most looking forward to that place which I've already been, already spent a significant amount of time in, and already fell in love with.

I'm hoping to return full of pastries and with loads of pictures and tiny presents for all. For now, I have year old pictures that make me ache with thoughts of last summer.





My view while I was 'living' there.

Sydney Carton

I've finished A Tale of Two Cities while at work. It was really quite embarrassing. Thumbing through the final pages a student walked in for an appointment and I looked up at her with what must have been red, red eyes and horror at her having disturbed me in these last few pages. Don't you know?, I wanted to choke out, Sydney will give anything for her, anything at all. Of course I pointed her in the right direction and finished. Charles Dickens, never one of my favorites, you have forever found a place in my heart.

It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.


And on that note, all I want is rain and a vase of lilacs.

L'amant

For the past four years I've been in a tumultuous, on and off again relationship. Several times we've nearly parted ways. There was something missing. We argued. We screamed at one another about things like flowers, about snow, about coldness both literal and figurative. We never saw eye to eye and we each were only waiting for something better. And yet, for whatever reason, I've stuck it out. Lately my love affair, with this city, has become serious.



It isn't that I hate cities. Just the opposite really. Moving from the southside of Chicago to the south of Florida was nearly enough to kill this city girl at a young age. I love the feel of big cities, the energy and the anonymity. Yet somehow New York always seemed off. I wanted it to fit, I forced it to fit and still, it didn't. However, lately I've been thinking about what it will be like to no longer be here. To no longer walk along the Promenade or nearly deserted streets in Red Hook. It will be sad.



The past few days have been lovely. Trips to the Brooklyn flea, three newly acquired vintage dresses, chocolate cloud cookies from Baked, ice cream from the Brooklyn ice cream factory, and sticky mornings with Keats and Jon sleeping while I wait for the sun to come up. And I know these aren't only Brooklyn happenings. I know other places have these wonderful things but still, my heart is already beginning to ache at the thought that we will not always live here.



I can always tell how much I will get along with a person by the lottery game. If you won the lottery, which neighborhood would you live in? My answer is always Brooklyn Heights. Or maybe deep in the West Village. But I just don't know if I could leave Brooklyn so easily. We have history and air here and no matter what anyone says, more heart than Manhattan

An introduction of sorts

As I well know, no one is yet reading this. However, I feel the need to introduce myself.



I am Emily. Please refrain from ever calling me by any other name (particularly Em). I recently graduated NYU with a degree in English and too many French classes to count. Next up, graduate school! Will one day become a Librarian at well respected university. As of now I appear anchored to New York. Brooklyn, to be exact. This is not what I want, sometimes. Though there are days where I want nothing more than to sit outside in the tiny Cobble Hill park and never, ever leave New York.



Home life consists of one me, one boyfriend, one seemingly adorable though actually terrifying cat. Cat is Keats, boyfriend is Jon. We are happy and have been that way for several years now. Jon, who will surely be mentioned often here as he is my partner in crime (we commit no crimes and are steadfastly commited to being homebodies), is a wonderful man who puts up with my antics. He works at Barnes and Noble. We fell in love because of this fact. He looks a bit like this:





This will be a blog about day to day life, I suppose. Which, hopefully, will often consist of Brooklyn adventures and journeys to far away lands. Upcoming adventures: London, Paris, Amsterdam. A gift to myself from myself and a gift to my mother for being so lovely and so supportive. Je l'aime beaucoup.





Well then, let us get a jump on my life!

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Wednesday was a very long work day which consisted of many thoughts of abandonment. Picking up my belongings, scooping up the cat and the boyfriend and sailing away blissfully to Paris. Did not do this. Instead went to dinner with some beautiful friends at a rather pink place, Sweetiepie and accidentally stumbling into a vintage shop and finding a white polka dot dress with POCKETS. Needless to say it is now hanging in my closet. Then an improptu trip to trivia night with said friends plus a few and a Jon. Nearly won but stupid question about a stupid song mentioning a stupid port caused our loss. Did you know Chernobyl happened in Ukraine and not Russia?

Thursday was early morning tarts and reading of books before short naps. Went to fill out paperwork at the incredible place I will be interning this summer, the Brooklyn Museum. Purchased some silk to craft bows out of and ended my night with yoga. And here I am.

My promise for this blog is that it will contain many pictures and at times interesting thoughts. Seeing as I am at my work computer, thats right I am typing this at work, oh the life of a GA, little relevant pictures are posted here but it will happen, pinky promise. If anyone is reading this, say hello. I will say hello back!

Hello there

Oh my, there is no point to this but, then again, is there ever?