vicky christina barcelona

as the intoxicating penelope cruz puts it, 

does christina have 'chronic dissatisfaction?'

or in the words of javier bardem (melt...) has she just yet to find what she's looking for?

and so she tries and tastes and loves until her head catches up to her heart

and with no regrets- she's on a new path

different- but carrying the last one with her to the next.

My Blury eyes

Cloud the 20-20 vision 

I have of you

And there you go again

The dreamcatcher couldn't even catch you

Flying by

Like fast cars

Headlights make way to hindsight

And the if-only's

And the blue moon

Is the same one we swam under 

And it's pregnant at it's roundest

And I'm fine

Because it's silly to think you wouldn't follow me

Into my night sky.

i have yet to figure out appropriate roommate etiquette...

at what point in the oh-so wee hours of the morning does it become ok to say 

'shut the fuck up?'

or is it better to politely step out into the hallway, try to get your roommates attention, (who is at present preoccupied in a pillow fight with a nameless girl from adams morgan...) and ask if he could 'please turn down the music-'

i go with the latter, but really it's just  is just a euphemism for the former... in other words, i really asked you to shut the fuck up, i just happened to say the words 'can you turn it lower?'

but what does all that matter anyways on a sunday afternoon when you are too tired to leave your bedroom, and not because you went out in your new BCBG Paris heels, but because all that came out of your mouth last night was timid euphemism, three hours too late...

and just when i thought dc was small

he showed me this spot

looking over the potomac

like my spot in jersey looking over the bridge

where i go to think

cuz for some reason when cars look that small on the bridge 

they're really that small, for a few moments

and speaking of moments

we saw a shooting star

and i swear it came from no where

it just came

from talking about moments

we made it fall so we could remember that moment for a long time

and it was so peaceful

just two people

nothing more

nothing less

no yesterdays or tomorrows 

the only way to just be

hearts and clothes

why do so many people come in and out of your life so fast? 

it makes me want to lock myself in my room sometimes to guarantee a non-meeting of sorts...

because you know what happens- it's simple logic:

if you have love in your heart 

and you wear your heart on your sleeve, or as someone once said to me ('keep my screen door open') 

then the chances that some of your heart may end up on the sleeve of another? 

are high

and if they do end up on another's sleeve, then there's no getting it back

then again, i can't have it both ways because, as i started this blog off- aren't we all walking around this city looking for some intimacy? for someone to rub shoulders with and exchange pieces of your heart?

District of Connection

sometimes it's so small- a big town you might say...

'jewish geography' doesn't compare.

TO BE a woman OR NOT TO BE a woman?

shouldn't we start calling all young girls- 'little women?' lousia may alcott was on point and i propose we follow suit. because when exactly do we graduate form 'girlhood?' - the time old question i guess. 'coming-of-age,' adolescence, all these names for something that may not even exist. 

it's like twilight- the day's over, and you know it because the sun's setting but it's also too light for stars. but do those ambigous hours mean there's an actual time called 'twilight,' or is it just because we've named it and so we think it does? (ok, philosophical I know, but if you can follow that- continue reading...) because at 'the end of the day' its just 24 hours of clocks ticking, church bells ringing...

if 'little girls' were told from the start that they were 'women', we would put up with less crap- no more cat calls because i'm no little girl (no cat either, no 'snowflake- yes i got that one yesterday...) i'm a woman! the future mother of your children, so don't mess- at six, sixteen or sixty... 

i thought about this as michelle and i made friends with brianna- six years old with a neon green swimsuit at the pool on 14th and arkansas. holding her breath underwater, braids afloat, all  to show us how well she could swim. and then making circles around us to listen to our conversation? get our attention? get a glimpse into what it's like to be so grown? so womanly? well brianna- you don't have to make circles around us to figure all that out- you are your own best friend, role model, woman. don't take any crap form anyone because you are so beautiful in that neon green suit.

if you let it- this city can be so romantic. well i think summer nights are romantic anyway, and if you happen to be picnicking in meridian hill park at ten pm, your chances for romance increase-significantly. 

and if there is a blonde woman with a guitar singing joni mitchell? well then you know two little girls with blonde curls will be dancing to their mother's song.

and you will want to twirl with them- especially in that light- where the street-lamps hug the trees.

and maybe a familiar face will appear- and you will shake his hand because you have to- because he looks like someone you made breakfast for once-

eggs and toast, a walk to the beach where you dug your feet in the sand and listened to his story-

that was a long time ago, although you're not be that old- looking at these stars makes you feel wrinkled with age.