“We’re like Peeta and Katniss because I’m like Peeta and I’m nice and I think people are ok and I try to help out with stuff and you’re like Katniss because you’re all scowl ugh people plus archery.”
— my husband
I have never had problems with my dad and grandpa the way I have with my mom and grandma. We have never had the heated arguments, the screaming matches, the tears that the women I am related to seem to provoke in each other. That’s not to say I’ve never had issues with them, they can be overly hands off so as not to bother me, completely baffled by the interior emotional lives of women, and unsure how to handle their only daughter and granddaughter not being a little girl anymore. There’s also the matter of a huge cultural and generational difference that leaves a lot lost in translation even when we speak the same language.
I used to really yearn for the same kind of close relationship I have with my mom, my grandma, my aunt, but now, older and wiser (therapy), I realize that people can only give as much as they are able to. My grandpa, who had to throw out his abusive father at 14 and work while still going to school to support his mother and sisters and then start again in a new country not fifteen years later, can joke with me, his baby of sorts, and be there in a crisis and teach me how to balance my checkbook but he can’t go to that place, he can’t go to his vulnerable place with me or anyone because he’s scared to fall apart, not being there for everyone else. My dad also started over in a new country, built a business, became a dad later in life. He can put me on a plane home from some place when I call him desperate at 2 AM, he can fix the brake lights in my car himself, he can hug me when he’s not sure what to say.
But I wanted him to know what to say! I wanted that more than anything, I wanted them both to know what to say and to say it and to really turn things over with me, to figure them out with me. But they can’t. I used to think this was a failing or a lack of love on their part when really, people can only give what they can. It doesn’t mean it’s right but it also doesn’t mean you aren’t the most precious thing to them, it doesn’t mean they don’t love you; it definitely doesn’t mean you aren’t worthy of it. Just because someone isn’t perfect doesn’t mean they aren’t good, excellent I’d reckon.
I have two great men who have loved me from the moment I took my first breath. For most of my life, I wasn’t sure that there were men like that anymore, that perhaps nobody my age was honest and loyal like that. I am glad that I have met good men, I am glad that I married a man who is good like this and good in the ways I’ve always dreamed of. I’m glad that despite what they themselves couldn’t emotionally give me, they always told me I never deserved anything less. To the best men I know, fathers, grandfathers, fathers-in-law, men who will be the best fathers anyone has ever had, happy fathers day, with love from your favorite and, in all cases, only girl. I have never had problems with my dad and grandpa the way I have with my mom and grandma. We have never had the heated arguments, the screaming matches, the tears that the women I am related to seem to provoke in each other. That’s not to say I’ve never had issues with them, they can be overly hands off so as not to bother me, completely baffled by the interior emotional lives of women, and unsure how to handle their only daughter and granddaughter not being a little girl anymore. There’s also the matter of a huge cultural and generational difference that leaves a lot lost in translation even when we speak the same language.
I used to really yearn for the same kind of close relationship I have with my mom, my grandma, my aunt, but now, older and wiser (therapy), I realize that people can only give as much as they are able to. My grandpa, who had to throw out his abusive father at 14 and work while still going to school to support his mother and sisters and then start again in a new country not fifteen years later, can joke with me, his baby of sorts, and be there in a crisis and teach me how to balance my checkbook but he can’t go to that place, he can’t go to his vulnerable place with me or anyone because he’s scared to fall apart, not being there for everyone else. My dad also started over in a new country, built a business, became a dad later in life. He can put me on a plane home from some place when I call him desperate at 2 AM, he can fix the brake lights in my car himself, he can hug me when he’s not sure what to say.
But I wanted him to know what to say! I wanted that more than anything, I wanted them both to know what to say and to say it and to really turn things over with me, to figure them out with me. But they can’t. I used to think this was a failing or a lack of love on their part when really, people can only give what they can. It doesn’t mean it’s right but it also doesn’t mean you aren’t the most precious thing to them, it doesn’t mean they don’t love you; it definitely doesn’t mean you aren’t worthy of it. Just because someone isn’t perfect doesn’t mean they aren’t good, excellent I’d reckon.
I have two great men who have loved me from the moment I took my first breath. For most of my life, I wasn’t sure that there were men like that anymore, that perhaps nobody my age was honest and loyal like that. I am glad that I have met good men, I am glad that I married a man who is good like this and good in the ways I’ve always dreamed of. I’m glad that despite what they themselves couldn’t emotionally give me, they always told me I never deserved anything less. To the best men I know, fathers, grandfathers, fathers-in-law, men who will be the best fathers anyone has ever had, happy fathers day, with love from your favorite and, in all cases, only girl. I have never had problems with my dad and grandpa the way I have with my mom and grandma. We have never had the heated arguments, the screaming matches, the tears that the women I am related to seem to provoke in each other. That’s not to say I’ve never had issues with them, they can be overly hands off so as not to bother me, completely baffled by the interior emotional lives of women, and unsure how to handle their only daughter and granddaughter not being a little girl anymore. There’s also the matter of a huge cultural and generational difference that leaves a lot lost in translation even when we speak the same language.
I used to really yearn for the same kind of close relationship I have with my mom, my grandma, my aunt, but now, older and wiser (therapy), I realize that people can only give as much as they are able to. My grandpa, who had to throw out his abusive father at 14 and work while still going to school to support his mother and sisters and then start again in a new country not fifteen years later, can joke with me, his baby of sorts, and be there in a crisis and teach me how to balance my checkbook but he can’t go to that place, he can’t go to his vulnerable place with me or anyone because he’s scared to fall apart, not being there for everyone else. My dad also started over in a new country, built a business, became a dad later in life. He can put me on a plane home from some place when I call him desperate at 2 AM, he can fix the brake lights in my car himself, he can hug me when he’s not sure what to say.
But I wanted him to know what to say! I wanted that more than anything, I wanted them both to know what to say and to say it and to really turn things over with me, to figure them out with me. But they can’t. I used to think this was a failing or a lack of love on their part when really, people can only give what they can. It doesn’t mean it’s right but it also doesn’t mean you aren’t the most precious thing to them, it doesn’t mean they don’t love you; it definitely doesn’t mean you aren’t worthy of it. Just because someone isn’t perfect doesn’t mean they aren’t good, excellent I’d reckon.
I have two great men who have loved me from the moment I took my first breath. For most of my life, I wasn’t sure that there were men like that anymore, that perhaps nobody my age was honest and loyal like that. I am glad that I have met good men, I am glad that I married a man who is good like this and good in the ways I’ve always dreamed of. I’m glad that despite what they themselves couldn’t emotionally give me, they always told me I never deserved anything less. To the best men I know, fathers, grandfathers, fathers-in-law, men who will be the best fathers anyone has ever had, happy fathers day, with love from your favorite and, in all cases, only girl.

I have never had problems with my dad and grandpa the way I have with my mom and grandma. We have never had the heated arguments, the screaming matches, the tears that the women I am related to seem to provoke in each other. That’s not to say I’ve never had issues with them, they can be overly hands off so as not to bother me, completely baffled by the interior emotional lives of women, and unsure how to handle their only daughter and granddaughter not being a little girl anymore. There’s also the matter of a huge cultural and generational difference that leaves a lot lost in translation even when we speak the same language.

I used to really yearn for the same kind of close relationship I have with my mom, my grandma, my aunt, but now, older and wiser (therapy), I realize that people can only give as much as they are able to. My grandpa, who had to throw out his abusive father at 14 and work while still going to school to support his mother and sisters and then start again in a new country not fifteen years later, can joke with me, his baby of sorts, and be there in a crisis and teach me how to balance my checkbook but he can’t go to that place, he can’t go to his vulnerable place with me or anyone because he’s scared to fall apart, not being there for everyone else. My dad also started over in a new country, built a business, became a dad later in life. He can put me on a plane home from some place when I call him desperate at 2 AM, he can fix the brake lights in my car himself, he can hug me when he’s not sure what to say.

But I wanted him to know what to say! I wanted that more than anything, I wanted them both to know what to say and to say it and to really turn things over with me, to figure them out with me. But they can’t. I used to think this was a failing or a lack of love on their part when really, people can only give what they can. It doesn’t mean it’s right but it also doesn’t mean you aren’t the most precious thing to them, it doesn’t mean they don’t love you; it definitely doesn’t mean you aren’t worthy of it. Just because someone isn’t perfect doesn’t mean they aren’t good, excellent I’d reckon.

I have two great men who have loved me from the moment I took my first breath. For most of my life, I wasn’t sure that there were men like that anymore, that perhaps nobody my age was honest and loyal like that. I am glad that I have met good men, I am glad that I married a man who is good like this and good in the ways I’ve always dreamed of. I’m glad that despite what they themselves couldn’t emotionally give me, they always told me I never deserved anything less. To the best men I know, fathers, grandfathers, fathers-in-law, men who will be the best fathers anyone has ever had, happy fathers day, with love from your favorite and, in all cases, only girl.

For the past while, Ian and I have been gathering tons (tons) of supplementary materials about our relationship for immigration purposes: mix tracklists, photos, emails, chats, call records, Skype records, gifts, blog posts, essays about our relationship, wedding blog, you name it. We are obviously going to include our wedding announcement that we sent out (to many of you!) and I realized I’d never scanned it and shared it here. I chose the Hicok, Ian chose the Dunn, and the rest we did together. Lipstick is, unsurprisingly, Nars Heat Wave. For the past while, Ian and I have been gathering tons (tons) of supplementary materials about our relationship for immigration purposes: mix tracklists, photos, emails, chats, call records, Skype records, gifts, blog posts, essays about our relationship, wedding blog, you name it. We are obviously going to include our wedding announcement that we sent out (to many of you!) and I realized I’d never scanned it and shared it here. I chose the Hicok, Ian chose the Dunn, and the rest we did together. Lipstick is, unsurprisingly, Nars Heat Wave.

For the past while, Ian and I have been gathering tons (tons) of supplementary materials about our relationship for immigration purposes: mix tracklists, photos, emails, chats, call records, Skype records, gifts, blog posts, essays about our relationship, wedding blog, you name it. We are obviously going to include our wedding announcement that we sent out (to many of you!) and I realized I’d never scanned it and shared it here. I chose the Hicok, Ian chose the Dunn, and the rest we did together. Lipstick is, unsurprisingly, Nars Heat Wave.

Hot Hot Heat — Middle of Nowhere

You didn’t have to do it but you did it to say
That you didn’t have to do it but you would anyway

I stole the way I most often describe myself, “consistently inconsistent”, from Hot Hot Heat and for that I’m forever grateful as well as the above lyric (second place to how I describe myself via lyrics goes to the Weakerthans with “in love with love and lousy poetry”).

Motion City Soundtrack — Everything Is Alright

I used to rely on self-medication,
I guess I still do that from time to time.
But I’m getting better at fighting the future,
“Someday you’ll be fine..”
Yes, I’ll be just fine.

2005 called, it wants its emo Anaïs back.

bison (via ovadiaandsons)
Bison are beautiful and always make me think of: “The Plains bison (Bison bison bison) is one of two subspecies/ecotypes of the American bison.”
Bison bison bison always kills me.

bison (via ovadiaandsons)

Bison are beautiful and always make me think of: “The Plains bison (Bison bison bison) is one of two subspecies/ecotypes of the American bison.”

Bison bison bison always kills me.

“I’ve been thinking about the expression, “If my heart were a house, you’d be home,” and generally feeling weird because sometimes home isn’t where you belong, even though the person who loves you wants you there. So I think I want cathedrals; I want a place with ceilings high enough to collect our voices and your thoughts and keep you safe, and you are there not out of obligation but because you believe in me. You are not a religion and I am not yours, but something should always feel sacred.”
ohit’syou or, as i called her in a message, “the brilliant queen of my heart thanks”

One Fine Day

The Chiffons

Listen

The Chiffons — One Fine Day

I put this on the first or second mix I ever made for Ian because well, yeah.

“The key to the vast majority of Underworld’s work as a trio and then as a duo is propulsionEdgeland, in conception and in name an exploration of life out on the margins instead, rather determinedly resists the idea of propulsion in general. There are refrains and melodies, often quite lovely ones, and the music is absorbing and gorgeous on a moment-by-moment basis. But these little explorations are more interested in wading into the dreamier end of Hyde’s observational flow, and in presenting interesting/beautiful sounds for examination, than in making anything you’d sing along to. In some ways, Edgeland feels like it’s more about poetry and sound design than songwriting.”

My review of Karl Hyde’s solo debut, the well worth investigating Edgeland, went up at PopMatters last Friday. (via imathers)

Fact: I have a very talented, better-writer-than-I-am husband (proof: “better-writer-than-I-am”).

Modern English — I Melt With You

“the future’s open wide” is the single most romantic, optimistic grouping of words I can even imagine existing.

in which we watch Nashville

  • Ian: does Rayna's label have a name?
  • Me: it's called Make It Rayna.

imathers:

I promise not to spend all day talking about this, but I’m still shaking my head at the idea that because a stupid, played out, sexist comment was supposedly just a guy whining about failing to pick up a woman I’m supposed to be more sympathetic to it.

I’m basically just more and more convinced every day that I could not have picked a better husband, a better human (!) to be married to, than Ian.

Wings

Haerts — Haerts EP

Listen

Haerts — Wings

I know I always say I was born too late because of my ~*true love*~ of 80s music but this song has a feeling that makes me think I was born at just the right time to appreciate this. Also, so romantic.