For every love that’s lost I heard a new one comes

I wrote a stupid, long post just now and decided to save it for a (non) rainy evening when my head is clearer and eyes a little wider.

All I really want to say tonight is that it’s incredibly cool that I can lay in my bed, sneezing and sniffling and getting over being sick, and have the ability to watch fantastic videos of live music at its best. That’s all.

This is still one of my all-time favorite songs.
And it is still a beautiful thing when you love somebody.
That’s all.


22 Things I Do Because It’s the First Week of January


1. Manage to get sick
2. Spend all day watching episodes of Grey’s Anatomy I’ve seen at least twelve times each
3. Exaggerate
4. Spring for the good tissues. When else am I going to feel justified to pay four dollars for the Super Fancy Cool Touch Plus Vicks Extra Soft Kleenexes?
5. Listen to way too much Damien Rice. All of the emotions
6. Be extremely self-indulgent
7. Dread going back to school and work
8. Feel like a whiney college student and remember the REAL WORLD doesn’t give weeks off for winter break
9. Endlessly watch NPR tiny desk concerts
10. Do arts and crafts in my bed
11. Eat soup in my bed
12. Really, anything I normally do during my day that can be done from my bed is fair game
13. Realize this list is looking a lot more like a list of ways I’m pathetic and reconsider posting it…
14. Nah
15. Internet window shop.
16. Price-compare vaporizers
17. Re-read books I’ve already read more than once (Nice to see you again, Joan Didion)
18. Try to reorganize my desk and make my room a complete mess in the process
19. Try to sing songs sung by men which are usually out of my vocal range to see if my current croaky sick voice allows for interesting musical opportunities
20. Write important dates and birthdays of my friends and the fam blam in my calendar for the new year and be proud of the one way I manage to be organized
21. Refuse to make New Year’s resolutions
22. Attempt to manage my cough drop intake and fail miserably


Oh, the clouds are beginning to break

I may be sick and in bed, but that’s not going to keep me doin’ my thang.

IMG_8288I have zero experience with gouache, and my work with watercolor is limited to a few weeks during my senior year of high school when I quickly decided I simply didn’t have the patience for it. But I bought a few tubes of gouache last week and decided to dive in. In between sneezes and cough drops, I hand-lettered and painted a few lovely lines from the first track of Ben Gibbard’s newest solo album Former Lives, which came out in October but I just snagged a copy of. He’s a talented dude, and the album, while not Death-Cab-status good, is pretty incredible. I’m a shameless fan of almost everything he does (sorry, guys. I’m not much of a Postal Service fan) but this solo album is worth checking out, I think. Also, this:


Reflection, Relevant, Remembering, Ridiculous

‘Round My Hometown

It’s interesting going to college in my hometown. I say interesting because that’s the word we use when things are neither good nor bad. And I suppose Denton, TX is my hometown, although I don’t know if I’ve acknowledged it as such until recently. I don’t have any family here or anywhere close to here besides my parents and sister. And as a whole, looking to generalizations about Texas and Texans, I don’t see where I fit in. But in this quirky little town that, in reality, is not all that little anymore, I certainly found a place. And I love it most when I feel I’ve made a home here as a young adult, separate from the one I grew up in.

I’ve been thinking and writing a lot about home lately. Summer and winter breaks from classes prompt this, with old friends and acquaintances returning from school or their newly-established homes to visit family. College towns have seasons like beach towns and ski resorts do, instead marked by the beginning and end of the semester, not the weather. The local coffee shops close early, streets around the university are empty, and the bars become filled with Dentonites, those of us who stuck around and those who come back.

You find yourself in restaurants and grungy bars with people you once shared bleachers and classrooms with. Everyone looks a little worn around the edges, even you. Especially you, it seems. In any case, you don’t know how you’re supposed to feel about them. Obligation? Regret for not keeping in touch? Complete apathy? To complicate matters even more, your college friends will mix with your high school friends. The girl you studied abroad with works at a Victoria’s Secret with a girl from high school who you recently deleted from Facebook, so that’s awkward. While they seem to be two worlds completely, space and time has continued as it always does completely outside of your life.

I vividly remember the summer before I began college, before many of my friends moved to various parts of the country for college. I was scared of change and probably still am, but I wasn’t worried about losing my friends. I thought the ones that mattered wouldn’t disappear, nor would our friendships. And the people I lost touch with wouldn’t be a huge loss or we (presumably) would have worked harder to stay friends.

But growing up is never that easy, and growing apart is certainly not painless.

As I’m about to begin my last semester as an undergraduate, with plans to move away in a few short months, I’m realizing more and more that sometimes we change as individuals too much for our friendships to survive solely because of history, of shared experiences from our pasts, of once being friends. It takes hard work, and sometimes it can’t possibly work. I don’t make New Year’s Resolutions, but I do plan to continue working on a few goals I set for myself in the middle of last year, one of which was to not keep friends out of obligation. You may disagree with me on this one, but I decided that friendship was too important to me to reduce to facebook stalking and a text message on their birthday. While it’s not ideal, I think it’s okay that we get caught up in the lives directly in front of us, and that work and school keep us so busy that we don’t acknowledge each other for months at a time. I am certainly not immune and I have many friends where this is the case. But what is there behind all of that is a mutual level of care, an understanding that we’re invested in the other, we think about each other, and there is love motivating a friendship, not obligation to something that once was.


I remember how our worlds once connected, how they intertwined so tightly I never imagined they would ever do otherwise. But I want to both recognize how they once did and no longer do, to be kind to one another, but not regret the directions we’ve moved. We forget the capabilities of time to change us, neither for better or worse, just significantly. In this town, everyone seems to know everyone. But in reality, no one really knows anyone at all. We may not know each other at all.

But if we want, we could re-meet, without presuming we know everything about each other because we shared hallways and glances across tables of coffee shops four years ago. As lame and aphoristic as it sounds, I think friendships begin with discovery, and that’s a pretty spectacular thing worth shooting for.

Relevant, Ridiculous

A million eyes you are the brightest blue

In the first two years of my blog, I kept up with a weekly Thankful Thursday feature (if you like extremely long lists, you should read this one), that I eventually forgot about. But I’d like to reinstate Thankful Thursday today because there are many things and people that make up this brilliant little life I get to call my own.

Today, I am thankful for:

1. A day surrounded by beautiful art at the DMA with my favorite gal.



2. Reunions with old friends.


3. Beautiful views.


4. My first legit lettering job. I’m having a blast!


5. Perfect nights with incredible live music.


6. The beginning of something spectacular. I can feel it.

Random, Ridiculous

Older People Play with iPads

Written from actual(ly boring) observations of a couple in Panera at 7:42 p.m. 

A man and a woman. Late 50’s, maybe early sixties. Definitely older than my parents.
The two sit down, the man with an iPad, black case, the woman with an iPad, purple case, maybe Kate Spade brand. Synchronized, they crush five or six lemons into their cups of water with a straw. The man empties a packet of sugar into his and taps in on the cup. The man swipes his finger across the screen in front of him dramatically, with force. He is having trouble connecting to the restaurant’s wifi.

WOMAN:–It must be the AT&T. It didn’t say AT&T earlier either. I’m can’t connect–
The man and the woman close their iPads. A waitress sets their food on their table, then walks away.
WOMAN:–Look at this, I asked for dressin’ on the side and this is what they gave me. The woman holds up three small clear condiment containers with lids.
WOMAN: That’s kind of a slap in the face way of doin’ that.”

Periodically, the man glances over his shoulder in my direction. I have my computer open and I am, by any reasonable guess, successfully connected to the internet. 

WOMAN: Oh dear, what’s her name–Brittany?
The woman speaks between bites, and sometimes with her mouth full.
WOMAN: I think I’m gonna get ‘er a gift card from bedbath, Bed, Bath, and Beyond.

They eat, I stop listening. After a few moments, they reach for their iPads on the seats next to them.

WOMAN: –You know why I never get chickn’ salad sandwich is that one time at the restaurant where there wasn’t enough mayonaise and it ruined it for the rest of ’em.
WOMAN: So your thing was gettin’ the wifi here?
MAN: No, it wasn’t, then it was. I couldn’t–

She pauses, now swiping her finger across her screen.

WOMAN: Maybe we need a password…

The woman starts looking around. She gets up to read a sign on the wall that says something about the wifi. She reads some numbers on the sign aloud. She still can’t figure out how to connect. 

ME: Are you having trouble connecting to the wifi?
WOMAN:Yeah, do you know the password?
ME: Actually, you don’t need a password. It will look like you’re connected, but what you have to do to get it to actually connect is open a browser like Safari or Chrome and it will bring up a screen where you have to agree to the Terms and Conditions. It’s super easy. Once you do that, you will actually be connected.

I am worried I lost her with “browser” and “Terms and Conditions” 

WOMAN: Oh. Well, let’s see here…

The woman fiddles around with her iPad, opens safari, and connects.

WOMAN: Wow, look at that!
ME: Did that work?
WOMAN: Sure did. Do you have to do that other places too? We go places all the time an’ I can’t figure out how to make my iPad connect.
ME: I think Starbucks has something similar. It’s worth a shot if it doesn’t ask you for a password and it still won’t connect.

I stop paying attention to the couple at this point until she says to her husband:

WOMAN: Honey, I’m playin’ you. It’s your turn, hurry up and finish your supper.

I hear the familiar twinkle of Words With Friends.



Better Days

Exiting the finals week cave (much less pleasant than the writing cave, guys) to share this song with you all. I’m pretty sure I posted a performance of this song in the past, but I just remembered it exists and it made my otherwise grim day much, much better.