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last night i sat staring into my skim latte, my friend alex sitting across the long and narrow, wood-grained table.

what should i write about? i asked. (i do best when prompts are dangled before me like a bowl of pepperidge farm cheddar goldfish).

what's her blog about? alex asked me.

sarah's? i lit up. oh, well, it's called fairy tales are true, and alex, they just might be. because she's tall and gorgeous and blond and she's married to a baseball player and now they travel the world together from one exotic location to the next and she's going to end the obesity epidemic with her living kitchen and yes, yes i'm gushing (and speaking at an uncomfortably high volume), but i might just be a little bit in love with her (and maybe, just maybe my fairytale  {yet to come true} looks awfully similar to this).

alex responded, perhaps you could write about what the fairytale is like when you don't look quite so much like the fairy-princess. 

scoff. kerfuffel. plunk.

(eventual chuckle).

this was not a slight on my beauty but rather against my dark hair. my, yes, brunette hair. (and also a testament to how well and how long i described just how gorgeous sarah really is). alex quickly amended the statement when i pointed out disney princess after disney princess who was not blond: belle (literary goddess and my life's great role model), snow white, pocahantas, mulan (and of course, anastasia {thought technically she was dreamworks, i think}). alex then went on to point out that i look most like pocahantas (paler skin, of course) and maybe a little like mulan. keep in mind i'm a white, irish-catholic girl from texas. thing is, he's kinda right.

as for the fairytale portion, mine is yet unknown. well, that's not entirely true. for now the fairytale is one of me living by myself in new york city and taking the world by storm (and by storm, i mean figuring it out inch by pain-staking inch).

i love new york, i do (much of the time). but i can't stop dreaming of red vespas, breezy sundresses, and sandals against cobblestone. the careless curvature of intersecting piazza and street. small, sunlit kitchens with copper kettles and adjacent balconies. unprocessed foods and bright shutters against aging stone structures.

europe has my heart.

oh, to be european! to dress like one and eat like one and travel like one. to love like one! and just as soon as i figure out how i promise you this: i'll spend my days traversing italy and france, scotland and germany, austria and switzerland, with the man i've always dreamt of and nothing but a pen, a piece of paper, and the very best camera my grubby little fingers can get a hold of.

(of course if the end days happens before this--and in new york, it's set to happen this saturday--i might be in trouble).

for now i toil away here in the states, living a charmed but often lonesome, little life. you see, i'm still waiting for the prince to arrive on his impressive white horse and whisk me away.

waiting is not quite right though. i am a modern girl in a modern world braiding my rapunzel rope one goldspun (brunet) strand at a time.

(and this is where baseball comes in). lately it feels as though i'm on the brink of something. on the brink of a new life--man, pen, camera and all. this feeling is persistent and nagging and all-together wonderful. and so the thing i keep coming back to, my touchstone words are these: if you build it, they will come.

and so i'm building. and dreaming. and sending up prayer after prayer that my fairytale comes to fruition. and i have this sneaking, wonderful, little suspicion that it just might. despite, or maybe just because of, my long, dark locks.


Well Nice Chels said...

Love this post! But what are you talking about happening in New York saturday? Haven't heard that one yet.

Hope you keep staying positive and get to Europe!

meg fee said...

this post is actually from ages ago--when some man was claiming the world was about to end. maybe last spring?

Jennifer M. said...

If you build it... they will come... Yes indeed. This is finally where I have come to settle in my search for Mr. Right. I've stopped searching and started living. He hasn't shown up yet, but I suppose I'll be a lot more interesting once I meet him!

S. Christie said...

I always wonder why you haven't packed up and flew to Europe yet. I very much imagine your fairytale is waiting for you there.

S. Christie said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
lene b said...

i may not live the european fairytale you describe, but i am european (but not italian, which is what i picture you as in your tale). and i am dreaming of what you have - as a u.s. citizen. i want to live in that tiny apt in new york, or any other u.s. town, and live in my beloved america. i just left the u.s. after having finished studying there, but am hoping to come back in the fall for more school. but i am bound by a visa - i can't just roam free like you. so my proposition: switch places?

Anonymous said...

I think your writing is lovely, and I really like your blog. But I can't help but wish that you wouldn't spend so much time dreaming of the White Knight. Life doesn't start when you find a man, it starts when you say it does. I don't mean this in a malicious way, but my own experience has taught me this...

Ria said...

Your writing is so, so amazing in this post! I have so many of the same dreams as you. I wish to be in Europe right now, or even in your place in a tiny little apartment in NYC. But alas, I'm in the deep south (or New Orleans, whichever you prefer).

meg fee said...

dear anonymous: just because i write about finding the man, doesn't mean i'm not living my life fully right now, at this very moment. maybe i don't do a great job of describing that on the blog, but that's the truth, and i do appreciate your comment.