Something As True

Sometimes there is nothing so scary as a blank page. Are you a writer? Then you know what I'm talking about. A blank page represents everything you should be writing but aren't, because you are too busy doing whatever it is people do when they're not doing what they should be doing. A blank page is every story you didn't submit, every idea you never fleshed out, every note of inspiration you scribbled on restaurant napkins or gum wrappers or your hand until you could spill it out onto a page and give it a little more time and attention.

It can be brutal and guilt-inducing to look at a blank page and feel at such a loss, because while all the other ants were gathering inspiration for winter you were whiling away your time seeing movies and hanging out at your favorite bars with outdoor patios and mindlessly going about the motions of work and living without really paying enough attention. So that now, when you want to write, when you deign to sit down with just your own head and a fresh page, you come up empty. Empty! And how can a writer without things to say be any kind of writer at all?

What does it mean when you ignore the gifts God gave you- is he insulted, does he understand and wait patiently until you realize what an idiot you are, or do you think at some point he intervenes? And how? Maybe talent has an expiration date, and if you don't use and appreciate your gifts, one day they up and leave (probably while you're too busy having a martini outside on some nice summer night to notice).

Ew ew ew ew ew

Times I love living alone: practically always

Times I wish I didn't live alone: when I find a bug

I Heart Sunset Colors

I painted this on the wall above my couch. I am not an artist but it was fun.

NO Spoilers, just wide open spaces

Last weekend I went Up North (that's northern Michigan in case you didn't know) with Courtney and Meryl and had a fabulous time. We went to Mackinac Island and rented bikes and rode the perimeter of the island, about seven miles. Also we ate fudge, Guiness-battered fish and then some more fudge. Many pictures were taken, which you can find on my Flickr page (still haven't decided whether to post that link here, but most of you probably have it anyway).

Casa Reed is beautiful and worthy of its own spread in Martha Stewart Living. One night we all sat around playing with brain teaser puzzles. There are at least five showers but no bathtubs because Dr Reed says they dry out your skin, however there was a hot tub which was lovely.

On Saturday evening I dragged my friends to the Wal-Mart in Petoskey so we could await Harry Potter. There were about 150 other nerds there waiting, nearly all adults, and there was a big group countdown- "TEN! NINE! EIGHT!...." You get the idea. After "ONE!" everybody cheered and the Wal-Mart lackeys slashed the plastic wrap off the pallet of books and there was a surge of energy as we all rushed to get our hands on a copy. I stayed awake til 4 a.m. reading- if we hadn't gotten up early and been traipsing around Mackinac Island I think I would have been awake all night, but I was sleepy. On Saturday I looked like this:


I shall refrain from commenting on the book itself since I have multiple friends who haven't finished. Right now I will just say that I really love the yellow orangey color of the sky on the cover.

I am thinking again about moving. I know, I know, when I got back from tour I was all "Oh how I missed you, Chicago! I am so in love with you again, Chicago!" But. But but but. It's possible I spoke too soon, for the wanderlust is setting in again and Montana (and Portland, and SoCal, and Boulder) is calling my name. You should know this about me; I am almost always thinking of being somewhere else.

I ordered a new rug and it's arriving tomorrow and it makes me want to paint more color onto my walls. Which isn't really what one should do when one is considering moving. I should get my head on straight.

I Heart Harry

Thirty-one and a half hours until Harry Potter! Do you understand how exciting this is?

For the record, 65% of me thinks Trevor is the animagus of R.A.B.

(I am currently in the Eastern time zone, this way I get to read it one hour sooner than if I were in Chicago)

A Flickr of This, a Flickr of That

I'm wondering if I should I post a link to my Flickr account here. It makes me a little nervous, and yet I've already posted photos with myself in them so pretty much anyone could see what I looked like. Not much different, I suppose. What do you think? Would you do it?



This weekend my friend Russell was in town and while walking the streets we came across this sign advertising a pretty huge reward for a money tree. We debated whether it was some kind of sarcastic social commentary, or whether there was an actual species of tree named "money tree." Turns out there is! But wow, what a hefty reward.

Here is a funny link to a short Will Ferrell video where a cute baby plays his landlord: Pearl the Landlord

You would not believe the fantastic bracelet I bought at the Rock Around the Block festival. It has ten antiqued gold links on it, each one a tiny engraved COMMANDMENT. Yes! A bracelet of the ten commandments! It cost less than one dollar per commandment, what a deal. I think it's basically the coolest/funniest thing ever. The Ten Commandments! On a bracelet!


On Saturday I took Russell to the Lincoln Park Zoo and on the way back to Clark Street, somewhere below Fullerton in a grassy green area, we came across a large statue of Hans Christian Andersen facing a nice wood and cast iron bench. I remarked how awesome/funny it would be to pass by this statue and see a person sitting on the bench reading a book of Hans Christian Andersen tales, but he did not think that was really funny at all. Seriously? If I saw that I would laugh out loud, possibly strike up a conversation with the person, and giggle about it to myself for several days between telling the story to everyone I knew.

Tomorrow I am going to see The Light in the Piazza at the Auditorium Theatre. The Chicago Tribune gave it a totally stellar review, but it's only in town until July 22 so go see it soon. The soundtrack is lovely and melancholy, and tickets are affordable. My favorite line from the soundtrack so far: "I can see the winter in your eyes/" I just like it.

I need to stop going out so much and remember how to stay in.

Kerouac and The Quibbler

I just met a hippie boy named Corey who walked me home, because a semi-creepy guy who semi-creepily hit on me at a neighborhood bar last night was parked in his mini-van near my building, and I didn't want him to see where I lived or see me go home alone. So this boy Corey, when he saw me sitting alone at Argo Tea, asked what I was up to and when I explained offered to walk me home. He is 22 and has been cris-crossing the country via trains for 4 years, working odd jobs here and there. Today he spent hours holding up a cardboard sign that said "I Love You" on Broadway, no donations please.

Life is just full of interestingness lately.

I saw Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix and I loved Luna Lovegood. I'm contemplating re-reading books five and six before the big book 7/Deathly Hallows release a week from tomorrow night. But I'd have to press pause on my two current books, Cross Country and Watership Down.

It's okay, Harry Potter is worth it.

I need to do laundry and clean tomorrow because a friend is coming to visit from LA for the weekend and my apartment is kind of messy and I am kind of out of clothes. This part is not so interesting. Good night!

Tectonic plates, rumble rumble/crash crash

I love being home.

Welcome to the new world, that is, my pink blog beyond the Komen on the Go tour. Part of the reason its taken me this long to update is I’m not sure what to write about now that I’m not schlepping up and down the East coast with jesus music listeners and a big pink trailer. I guess regular life will have to suffice, boring as its bound to be.

Here are pictures I took of my nieces Anna (older) and Molly (red) because they are cute.

Do you know what’s coming on July 21st? Arguably the biggest literary event in modern history, that’s what! The final Harry Potter book will go on sale at midnight and you can bet I will be waiting in line, ready to stay up alllll night reading it. The only hitch is I’m going to be in Boyne City (remote town in Northern Michigan) with my friends Courtney and Meryl, so we'll be driving 45 minutes into Petosky to hang out and then hit up the 24-hour Wal-Mart that will be selling Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows at midnight. Do you think Harry’s going to die? Do you think you know what all the horcruxes are? Are you going to stay up all night too?

On a lesser HP note, the movie of Order of the Phoenix is coming out Wednesday and I just bought tickets to see the 6:45 show that day with a friend.

Yes, I am an 11-year-old trapped in a 25-year-old's body.

I have been feeling sort of displaced lately. Do you know what I mean? Kind of a disorienting, unsure-of-my-surroundings, odd feeling of not being in exactly the right place or with the right people or doing the right things. Does this make any sense to you? For example, I am back from tour, and so happy to be home, but am also having an odd sort of separation anxiety from the whole thing- like I keep waiting to pick up and go to the next town, or something. And in general I am not a social butterfly type. But since coming home, I've been out more days and nights in two weeks than is normal for me in a whole month. I keep wondering if maybe I got so used to always being around people on the road that now I'm bored with my own company. Would that be sad, or progress?

And I'm sure its not helping that today I went to camp. I love camp, and it was great to see some friends, but after everything that happened with the documentary I feel oddly removed from that entire place and time in my life. My connection to camp and everything and everyone I associate with it feels tenuous at best and dessicated at worst, so being in the physical place as an onlooker who was told to make sure I left before dinner was an odd thing that gave me a chilly, isolated feeling.

Do you ever sense things shifting inside your own skin? Not even necessarily in your head, because maybe these shifts aren't things you consciously decided on; more like your very own inner jigsaw puzzle being undone and put back a different way. I think that's happening to me. In a good way, I believe, but right now the pieces are still finding their places and I'm displaced.

(in case you couldn't tell, I have a tendency to be melodramatic in writing)