So Long Summer.

Dear Summer, 

       

I will miss you. I will miss you ever so much.

You began with a little thing known as graduation, for which my entire family (well, a large number of them) trekked to NYC to experience. And to those who came, most especially my parents, I must apologize. I was not excited. At all. Yes, I wanted to be done with school, but the actual pomp and circumstance associated with it--no thank you, not now. Juilliard met me half-way. If graduations are usually like four course meals at a five-star restaurants, Juilliard skips the meal altogether and just serves the shot of espresso that usually comes at the end.  So, here I offer up my promise that I will make this up to my family in the years that come. With parties and shindigs and events that far outweigh what any graduation could offer. 

I take after my father. I can't take a straight picture to save my life. Goofy face? Check.

Then summer you obliged me by letting me return home to Texas (home, Texas, one sentence? wow, I never thought I'd publicly put those two things together--ever) where I applied for jobs that had nothing to do with theatre and spent the evenings sprawled in a large leather chair enjoying books and reruns. I ended up at a lovely little retail shop where I made next to nothing, but learned more than you might think possible...

1. a big rock on the left hand does not entitle you to be a bitch

2. showing up on time is so easy to do and will so endear you to the people you work for

3. gossip is wasted energy

4. its possible to like almost anyone if you give them a chance and let go of your own ego

5. when raising children don't begin with the question: how do I make my child a good person? this will become overwhelming and you'll end up getting nowhere...instead you must teach them the simple things like look someone in the eye, say please and thank you, clean up after yourself, offer up words of kindness, no one exists simply to serve you (oh, and you're not your child's friend, you're their parent)

6. doing simple little things in life will take you such a long way

7. when taking in criticism, the person offering it isn't interested in your excuses, they just just want to know you've heard what they've said

And before heading back to Manhattan I took a lovely, little vacation (my first true one in a year and half) to Chautauqua. The previous two years I had been there as a "theatre student" (as Jonathan would say) and had met some of the most amazing people a girl could ever hope to know. Well, this go round I was there as a tourist and I loved it. I ate more food than I knew what to do with because Karen, my adopt-a-mom, cooks like Monet painted, or Neruda wrote. I read (after all this was the summer of my never-ending-book) and I slept and I went swimming and I made new friends. 

Summer, I must thank you for this most especially. New friends. Lovely friends. People whose path I had no right to cross and others I knew, but got to fall in love with in ways I never dreamed possible. Friends who have armed me with a new and deep knowledge, who serve as springboards for ideas, and instigators for trouble. Friends who make me laugh and laugh and laugh. Who give me reason to smile and giggle and want make secrets just so I can whisper them in their ears. Friends who I thought I would never see again because our friendship had run its course, only to realize I need them now more than ever. 

Whitney--I'm so glad you walked in to Francesca's and we got to reconnect. I feel really, really lucky to know you.

Ariana--seeing you this summer reminded me of this: you are my family and the keeper of my secrets. And I love you in so many ways. And we're gonna be okay. We're gonna find jobs and create lives others will only dream of.

Nicole--where were you the first 22 years of my life? Now that I found you, I'm never letting you go.

Jonathan--I'm so glad we got to spend time together, and you finally go to see that human side of me. I look forward to countless mint chocolate chip adventures in the future. 

Naomi--I admired you from afar for four years and now am so excited to get to play with you in the city. I actually have to admit, I'm still intimidated (even now) by how beautiful, intelligent, and self-possessed (not to mention talented) you are. You're blog opened up this glorious world to me and for that I'll forever be indebted. 

 

Vic--you were my friend through the worst of it and now we get to be friends through the best of it. I love exploring with you and trying new things and talking about those old bugaboos (of course looking forward to the day when they won't enter into our conversation at all). I love that Rob makes you so happy and you him.

Rob--I'm so proud of you. And so lucky to be able to tell you everything, even if it grosses you out and you choose to take three steps away from me. 

Gavin--As long as the offer stands, my answer will always be: yes, yes, let's run away together.

So thank you summer. 

Summer of the red door (I see them everywhere). 

Summer of the never-ending-book.

Summer of goodbyes...so long school, farewell Ned.

Summer of discovery. Summer of finding out that love is everywhere... in everything and everyone if you just open yourself up to it.

And of course...summer of you, my little blog-spot lover.

So summer, thank you. But now it's time for fall. Time for me to start working. Time for me to turn twenty-three. And time to at least give this acting thing a go of it.

See you next year my sweet and sinful season. 

'til we meet again, 'til we meet again,

Meg

i love you as certain dark things are to be loved,

in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

pablo neruda

date a girl who reads.

it's been one of those weeks. one of those weeks where i've been feeling a little...less than. a little unworthy or unfilled or who knows...just not enough i suppose.

wednesday afternoon i found myself with nothing to do. so i took myself to the corner cafe and put pen to paper (so to speak) and as the words flowed out i thought, i have worlds within me. 

i have endless stores of worlds in the form of words. we all do. i may not have the perfect job or the dream man, but i am filled by words. and when all is said and done they satiate me in a way nothing else can.

so in trolling through blogs last night this hit a particularly poignant (and potent) note. 

(for the life of me i now can't remember where i read it, but if it's yours, you know it, email me and i'll give you some credit!)

Date a Girl Who Reads by Rosemarie Urquico 

Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas, and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by God, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes.

ps: happy fourth!!!!

someday, somewhere - anywhere, unfailingly, you’ll find yourself, and that, and only that, can be the happiest or bitterest hour of your life.

Pablo Neruda