For My Mom [ Mother’s Day 2014 ]

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As I sit down to write this, I know the exact expression that will come on my mother’s face when she realizes that this is a Mothers’ Day post for her. I know the look so well – not just from witnessing it for so many Mothers’ Days, but also because I now sport the same look. The expression that pulls our lips in a straight line, tugging on our chin slightly, eyelids settled comfortably between high cheekbone and furrowed brow, as our eyelashes have the fun job of holding up that heavy brow, which gives her and my eyes the depth and distinction of a creative philosopher (if I do say so, myself.)

 

This look. This look of modesty and gratitude with a dash of an eye-roll: this is the look on my mother’s face. A slight shake of her head, a salty chuckle that loops from the bottom of her chest and up through her nose, she’ll smile that flat-lipped, curled-corners smile that reaches the depth of her eyes, and she’ll think how absolutely ridiculous this silly holiday is, but, just watch, Mom – you’ll be surprised at how the sentiment reaches that spot in your chest that heats up the sneaky knot in your throat, burning and prickling the space right behind your eyes…

 

 

MY MOM TAUGHT ME WHAT LOVE IS (a poem, sort of.)

 

My mom taught me that

Love is straight-forward,

Love fills you to the brim,

Love is passion and elation and exuberating,

Love is patience, Love is honest, Love is unrefined and Love is raw,

Love is frilly dresses with bows, singing along to My Fair Lady and Les Miserables before dinner, a Saturday afternoon at The Ballet,

Love is hot chocolate on a snow day, lox pinwheels and olives at midnight,

Love is ruffles and frou-frou California shit, a cold beer near the pool,

Love is sitting through the Doctor Who Christmas Special, sharing TV shows, New York Times articles, and grammar snafus,

Love is #nationofidiots,

Love is Lamb Chop sing-a-long THIS IS THE SONG THAT NEVER ENDS

Love is “You bought this place?”

Love is Christmas brunch and Passover parsley

Love is Look at that Face Just Look At It, Look at that fabulous face of yours

Love is dancing in a puddle of Feels at Erin’s wedding to “Wind Beneath My Wings” before I left for Switzerland,

Love is letting me go to Switzerland, then New York, then Oregon, then New York

Love is “THEY’RE JUST TREES, MOM”

Love is the sweet silver song of a lark

Love is May the Road Rise Up to Meet You, Are You My Mother?,

            and Marjorie Morningstar,

Love is Mutsy and Blanky, jewel brads, eyelets, and glue dots

Love is “jussh a minute,” and “Mommy. I weally wanna wea(r) a d(r)ess,”

Love is Family.

 

You’re my hero.

Happy Mothers’ Day, Mom.

I love you.

 

[ i n d i g o ]

 

(and now, pictures of me and my niece)

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mixed tape

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If I could travel back to 1993, I would make myself a mixed tape. A gift to 25 y/o me. On it, written in fine-point sharpie over white spike tape, it would read “for your anxiety. Slay Your Dragons.” with a heart.

 

Mixed Tape: This is my jam 2014

“Radioactive” by Imagine Dragons
“Sail” by AWOLNATION
“Tainted Love” by Marilyn Manson
“So What” by P!nk
“Gangham Style” by Psy
“#Selfie” by The Chainsmokers
“I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)” by The Proclaimers
“Clint Eastwood” by The Gorillaz
“We are Young” by Fun.
“Wild Cats of Kilkenny” by The Pogues
“Ricky Ricardo” by KAPTN
“Wake Me Up” by Avicii
“Clavicle” by Alkaline Trio
“Shoulder to the Wheel” by Saves the Day
“Again I go Unnoticed” by Dashboard Confessional
“Hands Down” by Dashboard Confessional
“This Bitter Pill” by Dashboard Confessional
“Drags and Squares” by Sloppy Meateaters
“Send Me (On My Way)” by Rusted Root
“You Oughta Know” by Alanis Morisette
“Because You Loved Me” by Celine Dion
“The Wind Beneath Your Wings” by Bette Midler
“I believe / You’ll Never Walk Alone” by Barbra Streisand

Plugging my ears with earbuds after sliding my shades over my nose bridge is a transformative moment for me. Every. Single. Time. New York morphs into a much more manageable city, catering to my whim, as the people blend into the environment, becoming nothing more than a cooperative piece in that which is the soundtrack of my life.

We all have our devices for how we cope with the world. We create our own realities, form it around our own neuroses, and weave it so thoroughly that some of us don’t even recognize the difference anymore.

 

[ i n d i g o ]