maybe we can’t be ok, but maybe we’re tough and we try anyway

RIP Margo Popken, 2/23/11

has it really been a year?

I feel so sick. I think my voice has been permanently lost down a toilet at Tufts.

It’s so bad that today I pretended to be dead. Seriously. I got all my blankets and tucked them in wicked tight and got underneath them all and just lay there on my back with my arms at my side with all of it over my whole body and my head. Lots of blankets are kind of heavy. You just feel the weight and lay there without moving and barely breathing and then you fall asleep and it’s almost like you’re dead and buried. It was awesome and so peaceful and then when you wake up you just want air and to breathe and get your head out and that fraction of a second before you rip off the covers and quickly inhale through your mouth is exhilarating and exciting.

If your toes are sticking out, you're doing it wrong.

THANK YOU DEATH CAB FOR CUTIE AND BON IVER.

 

I love  this song, I love this dance, I love that she flies at 1:16.

I would like to fly too.

I wish I could fly, and magically appear and disappear. I wish I could fly…
I’d fly far away from here.

This is pouring rain,
This is paralyzed.

Something about it just always speaks to me and soothes me.

Bon Iver, I cannot wait to come and see you.

Days become weeks become months and, one day, I’ll have been missing you for years.

This is my college essay. It’s probably one of the favorite things I’ve ever written, and I keep intending to post it, but obviously it takes me forever to actually do it. Right now I’m bored on the couch in a hotel in Michigan, so it seems like as grand a time as any to introduce you to my partner in (fighting) crime…

Our relationship began in the form of a present from my mother. At first, Nancy Drew bored me; her demure personality and permanent geniality were irritatingly dry. I have always been one to speak my mind, and I resented Nancy’s tendency to hold her tongue. Though her first adventure in The Secret of the Old Clock thrilled me, I could not be enticed to read any more about her; however, the yellow bindings of the remaining books glared at me until, out of guilt, I was forced to make the best out of my mother’s gift.

By the time I exhausted my own book supply, I was scurrying to the library to obtain more. I discovered that, despite our clear differences, Nancy and I shared many traits. My own inquisitiveness, independence, and desire for absolute justice were complimented by Nancy’s exhibition of these same qualities. As I watched her quench curiosity and outwit obstacles, I longed to create my own stream of influence to combine with hers and cumulatively affect the world in one swell.

But what could I do to produce this effect? Unanswered questions always haunt me, and this one – the most crucial one – did so in an even more alarming manner. This frustration with ignorance went hand-in-hand with my passion for discovery that was fueled by Nancy Drew and her adventures. Each mystery solved and each cover closed further persuaded me that I, too, could uncover answers. I did not know how I would channel this aspiration, but I was certain that I had the ability, the tenacity, and the gumption to succeed – especially with Nancy by my side.

By growing up together, Nancy and I achieved a partnership. We thrived off of each others’ influences; her tenacity extinguished some of my hesitance, and I donated my own spirit to her innocuous identity. I was still my own person, and Nancy was still hers. We only bore the watermarks of each other. And how I relished observing these traces that others could not! I reread Nancy’s original stories and reveled in mental images of her smirking instead of smiling, fidgeting instead of standing still. I had given her qualities that the anonymous Carolyn Keene had not; I had made her human.

While Nancy undoubtedly influenced my character, her most prominent effect lies in my aspirations. The success of teenage detective Nancy Drew is world-renowned, but this is not why I have placed forensic investigation and chemistry at the crest of my vocational goals. Nancy’s adventures always end with the restoration of justice and the conviction of wrong. She has locked up countless fictional felons, but is confined from extending the favor to reality by her own paper cage. By washing away these fragile bars, I will release Nancy Drew onto the world through myself so that she may actually have life. As a team, we will search for clues, develop answers, and crack cases together.

I AM NANCY DREW.