I tried to think of something better to share with you today, but truth is, it simply doesn't exist.

You're welcome.

An Open Letter to Harvey, the Nonconsensual Roommate

Dear Harvey,

Let me open by saying that of course, I realize that this situation isn’t your fault. Winter is coming, after all, and a nice warm apartment like ours, full of bookshelves to hide behind and absent any nasty old cats, must have been awfully tempting. I understand where you’re coming from. Truly, I do.

Unfortunately, we’ve discussed it between the two of us (that would be, Us, the two people who actually signed the lease), and we regret to inform you that you are no longer welcome on the premises. I mean, let’s be honest – you were never welcome in the first place. But it’s very definite and official now: we are going to need you to leave.

So Apparently Being An Adult Means You Can’t Ride in the Grocery Cart OR The Laundry Basket, aka This Sucks, and To Top It All Off, the Laundromat Doesn’t Have WiFi

Happy Thor’s Day, people of the internet!

META-THOR.

Full disclosure - I am actually writing this ahead of time, on Wednesday. Also, in case you hadn’t guessed, I am sitting at the laundromat down the street from our apartment, waiting for my clothes to dry and being slowly and gently fleeced in the meantime. (It costs at least five dollars for us to do two weeks of laundry down here. Can you imagine? Five whole dollars. That’s almost as much as I paid in library fines yesterday.)

I still think apologies are stupid (but only most of the time)

When I was a kid, and having one of the (in retrospect, many) passive-aggressive-cold-war-turned-violent-blood-feud fights that my siblings and I used to engage in when we were all stuck at home yet sick to death of the sight of each other, I would often be ordered to ‘say sorry, or I’m telling!’

More often than not, if intimidation and/or psychological warfare had failed to force my victim to admit it was their own fault the whole time, I tended to turn pious. “But why should I say sorry?” I’d ask, folding my arms and shrugging, which was my pretend ‘let’s just level with each other’ stance. “I know I’m not sorry. You know I’m not sorry. Do you want me to tell a lie? Lying’s a sin, you know. I’m surprised you’re trying to get me to do that.”

Sometimes it worked (meaning, they gave up). Sometimes it didn't.

not with a whimper, but with a BANG

Hello again, internet friends! I know, it's been forever. I missed you too. HEARTS.

Last weekend, I (almost without realizing it) celebrated my one-year anniversary of living in Chicago. I didn't even recognize the milestone until Sunday night, out drinking with friends, I was asked how long I'd been here, and I answered, "Well, about a year now...*pause* Actually, uh, exactly one year now. Like. As of yesterday."

WELP.

It seems only appropriate to mark this occasion with a Useful List (because I am that kind of person, yes, but we knew this already). Thus, without further ado: Ten Things To Know About Your First Year In Chicago.*

a medium-length ramble

begin with the assumption

that you are Enough.

I currently have these words hanging on my wall, above my desk, right next to my computer screen. I hung them there because a) I am one of those people that hangs “inspirational quotes” on my walls; I have hung them on post-its and post-cards and the backs of playbills and the corners of napkins and, when I am feeling particularly strongly, I have occasionally scrawled them on my own skin, in permanent ink so that they stay there long enough that my eyes have memorized their shape by the time they’re gone

And b)

The eventfulest day.

And some days you end up standing in the rain,
covered in mud, wondering why the heck
your magic hammer is so heavy all of a sudden.
It happens.

(I ALMOST FORGOT about Thor's Day this week, guys. It was that serious.)
Happy Thor's Day!

Two important things happened today:

1) Ninety-six years ago, Ella Fitzgerald was born. Happy Birthday, Lady Ella.

2) I got my tax refund! And consequently paid off my credit card, and, like, bought food, and put money in my sadly neglected savings account (sorry, little guy). It was awesome. (Sometimes I'm a little concerned about how much of a mood-lifter Having Money is for me, I'll be honest. My sense of security may be ever so slightly misplaced.)

...oh, and also sort of 3) Bard and I found an apartment!

I'm hesitant to announce this as actual news yet, with, y'know, all the attendant fanfare and photos and such, because we had a terribly tough time getting some of the requirements worked out, and there was all this nonsense with cosigners and secure deposit and our move-in date but the upswing of all of it is...we should be signing a lease in two weeks. And then, two weeks after that? Well. Moving Will Be Happening. And it will be epic. And y'all will get so sick of pictures of my new bathroom.
Stay tuned...

BREAKTIME

It's time for THE BEST DAY OF THE WEEK!

Happy Thorsday!
And for bonus points: Agent Coulson!

rain rain rain VIDS rain rain rain

Hullo, friends!
Unfortunately, Chicago has not yet decided to give up and admit it isn't winter anymore, so in a few minutes I get to walk to work in what is now rain and is threatening to turn into snow, given half a chance.
Before I go, though, I have some pretties for you.

shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Well now, lovey, if I were to do that, I would have to say that you

completely destroy my attention span

[Not pictured: Facebook, NPR, tumblr, gmail, and who knows what else is open in my internet tabs]

and today's earworm is...

Some of you may not be aware that I work in a clothing store.

Well, I do. It's a fairly pricey clothing store. Like, $48 t-shirts pricey. To be fair, 100% of our profits go to a Chicago charity, and the pieces are, on the whole, good quality. But STILL. When I spend my workday ringing people up for hundreds of dollars worth of jackets and sundresses and yoga pants and scarves and aviator sunglasses and vegan leather handbags (I promise they're real), the class-consciousness can start itching something fierce.

I listened to this song before I went to work this morning, and it's been stuck in my head ever since. You should listen to it too. And then, for good measure, everything else he's done, because it's all awesome. 

The video's a lot of fun, too...

{insert something clever here}

Good afternoon and Happy Wednesday, people of the internet!

At one point, I drafted a terribly long and thinky and super-seriously overblown blog post meant to reintroduce myself in this space, but then I lost it in an explosion of visitors and overdue paperwork. In the long run, I'm glad I did, because it was so awful, guys. Suffice to say that I'm back, I've got a whole pile of new and exciting and slightly different things I might be writing about, and I will also include the occasional life update, as it occurs to me, because it's been brought to my attention that certain of you would sure like to know I am still alive. Fair enough!

For now, though...because they are definitely more interesting than me rambling on in the abstract about where my head's been lately...delicious links!

AFP being awesome (as per usual)

If we know each other very well at all, you will already be aware of my mad fangirling feels about Amanda Palmer. This is a link to her blog post thanking all the people who helped with her recent TED Talk (which was lovely and you should watch it if you haven't already!), and I am pretty much in love with how she does music, celebrity, vulnerability, people and life in general. Especially in this instance - it's not usually that sexy to talk in detail about all the little random people who have held you up on your way to rockstar-dom (literally or figuratively), but she makes a point of it, and yes, she makes it sexy. Here's the creative process, she says - no, there's no loner genius here; instead it's a hundred drafts and a thousand cups of tea and a million listening, critiquing, encouraging friends. Read her. Listen to her. Love her. Join the movement. You're welcome.

The Middle.

I've been following this blogger named Jamie The Very Worst Missionary for awhile now, off and on, and aside from being a refreshingly Real person (dude, she talks about poop way too much to be a proper Christian blogger; it's great), she occasionally hosts her awesome friends to talk about important things - in this case, God, Jewish holidays, categories, and living in the tension. I'm not Jewish, but I live on the Christianity spectrum, and the philosophy behind this post feels a lot like the places my God And The Universe-related thoughts have been exploring lately.

Vintage.Black.Glamour.

I think the title says it all, really. I could try to come up with something profound about blackness and beauty and portrayals as they change over time, but I think we're all smart enough to just mentally fill that in...

In other news, the show I'm stage managing closes on Sunday (that went fast!), I've got at least two more projects lined up for after that, and life is goooood, if slightly hectic! Thanks for reading, friends. Be back in a bit.

~L