When I go back to Portland I know that I’ll miss mornings in Boulder. Every day at seven I turn my music on soft and quiet and listen to the words in my head as I pick out my scarf and take my hand-me-down vitamins. Our mini-fridge hums and the showers groan and my hair straightened sizzles and smells like a cheap nail salon. I move in slow motion ( Read more... )

I was doing so well. So, so well ( Read more... )

I love game day. It gives me a chance to listen to shitty music, walk around naked and do copious amounts of laundry without being bothered. Only downside is that everyone comes home way more plastered and annoying than usual. But I can deal. The tradeoff is definitely worth it ( Read more... )

Answer me this.

Does age really matter?

...how much?

Looks like I'm a Portland Lady for life, now.

( NEW INK! )

I can’t quite get the hang of making coffee here. My water boiler is sexy as hell (thanks, Target) and I have amazing whole-bean coffee from Multnomah Village. My mini fridge is even stocked with unexpired cream (not half-and-half) and there’s a box of sugar cubes on top. I just can’t seem to put everything together. I blame the altitude (that’s my ( Read more... )

RIP A World of Firsts.

I'm digging a hole to live in. I'm going to be there for a long, long time.

I want to get angry.
And I wish more than anything that I wrote this song.

RIP Crocodile Hunter Steve Irwin.

( Read more... )

I really think I could do better. I want a challenge, but at the same time I don’t want to be pulling out my hair in frustration. Does this middle path even exist ( Read more... )