girl talk.

i'm not good at being a girl. or rather, i'm the worst of all things female.

all that stuff that guys attribute to girls--the things that drive men nuts about women--i embody them.

i think way too much. i overanalyze everything. i worry. i gravitate towards nuttiness. i get lost in my head. or at the foot of my bed (i've been lost for days at the foot of my bed).  i disappear inward. have unknowable, unwordable thoughts.

and i cannot say what most needs to be said when it most needs to be heard.

i sat with my best girlfriend alisha last wednesday. in a diner on ninth avenue. it was pouring. we rushed in under the cover of a single, red umbrella, slid into the dark, brown booth and began an epic and important session of girl talk:



dating is hard, i said.                               {profound}.

yes, it is, she replied.

i've had enough, i said.                         {it's  not been a terribly successful month}.

okay, she replied, the way i see it you have two choices, meg. you can be done with dating.  for the time being, if you've had enough, then sure, fine, okay. but you gotta get yourself two cats then. and every day after work you have to go home and feed those cats. and then you have to sit on your sofa watch some bad television and eat some unsatisfying ice cream. then you have to go to bed and do it all over again. 

don't mock me, alisha.


i'm not. i'm really not. i'm just being brutally honest. so you can do that. or can you soldier on. and accept that it's hard. for everyone, dating is hard. and we all struggle and we all worry and don't be so ridiculous to think you're the first or the last person to have ever had these thoughts--to have ever wanted to give up. 


alright. point made, i said, half-smiling, leaning back, reluctant to admit that i was lapping up her wisdom.

not quite, alisha continued on, you have to be hard on yourself. you can't go on one date and be satisfied for a month. you have to keep pushing and going and moving forward. you have to be courageous and hold yourself accountable. 






alisha is one of those dear no-nonsense friends (part of the yesterday's blogged about cocktail for happiness). and i'm trying really hard to hang onto all of her wise words this week.

claire (another dear no-nonsense friend) coined the phrase "cocktail for happiness" and suggested honesty is a part of the mix i forgot to list. i suspect she's right.

so courage and honesty...my two signposts of the week.

it's been raining like cats and dogs in new york for two days now.

but the rain coat i got at the age of fifteen before my first trip to europe is still kickin' and i have to tell you, ten years in, it still does its job (and even keeps me feeling pretty).

i'm finding my peace. and forgiving myself for those things i've never done.



willy tea taylor 
"cattleman" 


read here. 


(it's been a while since a string of words drew all the breath from my body. but last night, upon reading this, that's exactly what happened. i haven't been able to stop thinking about it since.)

illumination.

i went out with a friend recently, one i haven't seen in ages--and by ages i mean years. it had been years. whole lives had passed between our last meeting. we went to a posh restaurant in the meat-packing district--one of those places that people say you simply must go when in manhattan. the girl who sat us wore a black dress, red lipstick, and a pill-box hat. the waiter spoke with a heavy french accent. we sat outside, at a tiny slip of a table. my dress tugged on my neck as i tried to find a comfortable (and modest) way to sit in the small folding chair. there was a garden across the street--with a large wooden table and sunflowers atop it. and the way the sun hit the stones of the patio caught my breath in my mouth.

there is always the moment, with old friends, when i must explain what i'm doing in this life.

no acting? why not? what then? writing? what kind of writing? and my answers become tedious and often vague because to answer them all well and truthfully and fully would be a whole (and pardon the language that's about to come) shit-storm of information. and some things are best unraveled slowly and carefully. so i gave some sort of (or i thought so) coy look and said, i've been learning how to be happy. i've figured out happiness for myself. and he looked at me incredulously and said, really, you figured that out? 


it's a bold statement. to say i've figured it out. i know. but i think in a lot of ways, i have.

i smiled, looked down at my latte (what else) and said, yeah, sort of, it starts with this (the latte). and a clean room--a clean room is essential to my happiness. 


i have a whole list of things. red lipstick. hoop earrings. a camera around my neck. live music. late-night conversations with my father. riding in the car beside my mother. trips to boston. sitting next to strangers on a bus. girlfriends that refuse to deal with nonsense. photo albums. any book by pat conroy (with the exception of south of broad--not mr. conroy's finest). living through fear. doing what i once thought impossible. the list is endless. or at least, that's the hope, that it should be never-ending.

but the list is only a sliver. i think what i've figured out is this: everything passes. and sadness does not negate happiness--it sometimes eclipses it, sometimes not. the two can live side-by-side. they can co-exist. there is a sadness in me this morning, as i write this, but that is not to say i'm not happy.

it's just that happiness is ever-moving and ever-changing and all i can do is be open to the possibility that every-once-in-a-while when i least expect it, i'll be so lucky to have it move through me and around me--to fill me and live there before it continues on.

do i have happiness figured out? as much as i can, right now. yes, i think so.

i've been feeling weary of my upcoming 26th birthday because i feel i've accomplished so little. i'm so near a number and so far away from any expectations i had for my life at this point. but realizing this last saturday morning that a little piece of happiness is mine, knowing i've just a wee of a handle on it? well, that's not so bad for a twenty-five year old nearing twenty-six, is it?

lollapalooza playlist

my parents send me clippings from the newspaper if they think it'll strike my fancy (or if they think it's something i should know). recently the new york times did an article on beirut and zach condon, asking him about his influences and what inspires him. he spoke about attempting to find a clarity of vision--of how when something means more it's a bit more terrifying to put out there--to really reveal yourself. 

but what really got me, what really made me laugh out loud on the subway was when the interviewer asked: is your band dressing better? (zach had just referenced chico buarque and how he used to dress up impeccably each evening and how he himself was trying to adopt some of that attitude). 

zach responded: i'm trying to force them all to wear suit jackets. i'm sick of seeing 30-year-old men in new york look like toddlers, wearing sweatpants and flip-flops. 

me too, zach, me too. there is nothing quite like a man who can wear a suit really well. 

now a full week after my lollapalooza adventure, i offer you just a small smattering of some of my favorite songs of the festival...