Devastated

The images coming out of Vermont are breaking my heart. This is the town I love:

I lived here for a year. I used to go to Jelley's to get pizza for the kids and at least two more times each day. I almost took the apartment above the organic food store one building down. (Instead, I chose an apartment down the river until I moved more into the mountains.)

I just can't even put into words how sad this makes me. 

More thoughts from me soon, I am sure...

Updated 9:45pm: It was just confirmed that my first apartment (the one farther down the river) is underwater. Unbelievable and unbelievably sad.

Friday Follow: Poetbabble

[ Poetbabble ]

A Few Photos from Last Weekend...

Wanderlust Wednesday: Sitka, Alaska

Where would you like to be this Wednesday?

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Tiny Glass Jars

There is relief in knowing the ending. I almost always interrupt at the beginning of movies - "Wait, what happens? You know, at the end." Certain friends, they know to just tell me. It's easier to watch movies without my momentary meltdowns each time the plot changes.

It's a relief, sometimes, to know how things worked out. The wonder grows tiring. The questions grow heavy. To learn that I've been carrying this alone. Or to learn that no matter how hard I worked to paint lines black and white, I could never dispel the gray. Not from another's eyes. I'll release us, free us, even if I'm hated for it. Eventually defined by it.

The ending defines. But so does the release, the letting go.

He told me once, that he'd keep me in a tiny glass jar, tucked away with him, forever. I fought that. I wanted to burst; I was bursting; I'd never stay encased in glass. I didn't want forever. I wanted now. This moment without a thought for the next. I'd shatter the glass. I'd explode into the night air.

I understand now. I have rows of tiny glass jars lined up on shelves. Filled with people and moments.

Perhaps someday I'll learn to pay attention to the beginning, to sort through the middle. First impressions shouldn't slip down the garbage disposal at 1am on a Wednesday night while waiting for the coffee to brew. The first time, the second time, the third time breakdowns lead to silence, stop waiting for the recovery. Moonlit confessions cycle. Even on the darkest nights, the moon is still there.

Years later, I'll sit across the coffee table from a now-stranger and wonder which one of us refuses to make eye contact. I'll see the first dance as a wall-photo snapped and posted from someone else's cell phone. I'll roll over to a 3am phone call and divide myself over not answering. Again and again and again. Until I'm whole.

I bottle the years before. Us, frozen in time. The moments we gave each other the best of ourselves. Honest, true, ragged, and brilliant.  I hold on to those, while I let everything else go.

Gutted and hollow. With widen open space for new growth. All of us.

The end makes it all ache but instantaneously lighter.

Teacher

Have you ever watched a friend do something she was born to do? 

With every breath, word, movement, she could not have possibly been more herself or more beautiful.

Authenticity is breath-taking, gorgeous. 

I dissect my own identities.

Divided and plural. 

As I struggle not to define myself by my profession.

As I watched her, I realized that I might have this all wrong. 

She taught. And I learned.

This Is Joy

[Note: I wrote and posted this at 2am last night. I rolled over at 7am and hit delete. I wasn't sure... I just wasn't sure. Blogger saved a draft of it - this is probably a bug in the program, but it worked for me. Alivia encouraged me to post it again, so I am. This time, I'm sure.]

This is called blogging while intoxicated. Liv is here with me, so I have decided that it is fine. Acceptable. To say that this family I made for myself in Portland has given me both roots and wings. And perhaps it is an an accomplishment, the very best, to say that these people love me, no matter what.

(I'll insert a caveat to say that I am over 21 and took a cab ride home; I'll be fine to fly tomorrow, and my friends... we'll put each other to bed. Here's tonight's thoughts.)

DANCE.  Dance like you don't care if you're supposed to be this or that. IT doesn't matter. And on some sleep deprived Friday morning you'll finally, finally, finally understand the importance of movement. You'll see souls light up and principles you research grow pointe toes, while gripping him/ballet bars. You'll tear up in the corner and hope they don't see. But dance. Dance in the corner of the bar. Dance while she spins you around. Dance like your life depends on it. Because it probably does. It always does.

I'm hundreds of miles away. From home and home and home. I'll send the damn text message. And declare in the same breath that the next guy to love me will be lucky. So lucky, because I love hard; the squeeze of her hand, the way I won't let go... and the steps I take in the opposite direction... I'm walking away because it's the only direction the light offers. Fool and fool and fool - risk it! I'm worth it. I promise.

We'll fall asleep on the air mattress while the the tiny fan spins. She'll fall asleep between the two of us, while brides in states far away toast new husbands and I decide to love anyway. Hard and fast. I don't know what to do with everything I can't control - am I the only one reading the signs? Take me now and forever. I don't have the stamina for this. I give up and give in. I'll wash up on the shore and I know someday you'll realize... The waves crash. I'm miles away and hundreds of miles away, but each night I fall asleep to the sound of the ocean, the promise of home, the hope of love. 

You're in my life and you are my life - better than I could have every orchestrated. I'll shout pony at the top of my lungs, and hold your hand from night to dawn. Twirl and pirouette, ceiling paint and gallons of ice cream. I love and love and love and that's more than I could ever ask for. 

It's all more than I could ever ask for. 

Where To Go In Portland, Maine - If You're Single, Broke, And A Law Student

I leave tomorrow for my second weekend in Portland, Maine, so I thought it might be a good time to share some of my favorite spots in Portland. These are The Places To Go if you are a single, broke, sleep-deprived, law school student in Portland, Maine. (This means that none of the fabulous tourist places will make this list, but it also means that this list is even better. Promise.) Ready?

{note: most of these photos are not mine, but some are}

Silly’s

Holy amazing milk-shakes, Batman. And burritos. And slop bucket. (Which is what I had last Friday night and, oops, left in Nicole’s fridge. I’d bet my entire bank account that her boyfriend has already finished those left-overs, though. He knows the drill.) Silly’s is colorful and cozy – a combination hard to find – with creative, delicious food and wicked chill servers. Also, hot. I’ll let Nicole tell you about the time that she left my number for the waiter on a napkin… okay, one of the many times. She’s pretty much determined to single-handedly end my single-dom. Moving on…

OhNo Café

Best breakfast sandwiches ever. That’s all I’ll say, and direct your attention here.

The Bar of Chocolate

They have amazing drink-able chocolate. It comes in tiny espresso cups and fills you before you reach the bottom. I think this bar is actually the first bar I ever went to in Portland. They also serve cake. See why I adore it? Chic mixed with rustic and a low-key atmosphere makes it a great place to actually hear the people you are hanging out with. They also have mini-bottles of champaign and flour-less chocolate tort. Not that I know from experience or anything. 

L.L. Bean at Midnight

Actually, 11pm on a Monday night was one of my favorite times to frequent L.L. Bean. Sure, it’s well-known that their mother-ship store has any Bean item you could possibly desire and it is open 24 hours a day, but do you know how amazing it is to wander around at 11pm on a Monday night? Hello, free therapy. That pretty much sums it up for me. I spent a lot of time there my last year of law school wandering aimlessly around the store and dodging the helpful associates who kindly asked me if I needed help. Um, no, but could I cry on your should for a while because I miss D.C. and hate negotiable instruments and am terrified that I am never, ever going to find a job and going to law school was the worst decision of my life and, and, and… Thankfully, my favorite bed on the third floor and maple syrup candy solved all problems.

Duck Fat

(via)

The. Best. French. Fries. Ever. I guess they are fried in duck fat – hence the name – but they also come with unique dipping sauces. I’m not a big mayo fan, but the vinegar and mayo dipping sauce is amazing. Paired with a grilled cheese and tomato panini makes an awesome lunch. Frequent flyer tip: order to-go and then pick it up with a friend – parking is hard to find around there, so it helps if the car circles the block while you run in. Not sketchy at all. Ha.

Whole Foods

I have spent an embarrassing amount of time eating meals at Whole Foods. I have had study groups at whole foods. They have great sushi. And edemame. And soup. With corn bread. Seeing as they are technically a grocery store, I will refrain from naming all the food they carry, but let’s just say that they pretty much single-handedly fed me most of my time in Portland. And provided the backdrop for about 75% of my stories. Oh, also, they have a coffee bar. Just sayin’.

Top of the East

Gorgeous views of Portland and one of Portland’s swankier establishments – in a good way. We had our law school “ball” in the Eastland Hotel the first two years, so I’m quick to associate the building with pretty dresses, free wine, and general mayhem. Ah, good memories from the ballroom… upstairs, as in up fourteen flights of stairs, is the fabulous Top of the East bar area with areal views of Portland. I’m notorious for getting turned around up there (which direction is south?) but I could look out those windows forever. The bar area has leather couches, fireplaces, and martinis… actually, I’m not so sure about the fireplaces, they could be martini-induced, but I do know the Top of the East and Eastland hotel hold some of my favorite memories - martini and non-martini.

Grace

(this and other photos here)

Okay, so this is a bar, too. Are you noticing a pattern here? I’m pretty much the farthest thing from a foodie and, as I said, I was broke, single, and holed up in the law school library for most of my time in Portland. Bars were the preferred option. Grace is a church converted into a bar. No joke. Stained glass window, choir balcony, super classy, always warm (you know that means it’s really hot, right? ‘cause I’m the girl that’s always cold.), good music (recorded usually but sometimes live) and quiet enough to hold a conversation.

Mr. Bagel

Nothing beats an everything bagel with vegetable cream cheese and a Green Mountain coffee on Thursday mornings after Biz Ass class. That’s Business Associations – but you knew that, right? This was the best ever reward for making it until Thursday morning at 11:00am. Trust me.

Bintliff’s

Touscan Scrambled Eggs. My stomach is growling just thinking of them. The wait is usually a few minutes, but they serve Coffee by Design coffee while you are waiting, so it’s almost like you’re not waiting at all. Coffee by Design does that. Chic and cozy – it’s my favorite place to go if I’m looking for a real, sit-down breakfast. Parking isn’t great, and the placement of the stop signs are a little weird (but not new, Nicole) but it’s totally worth the tour around the homeless shelter and the screeching from the back-seat. Also, they serve Vermont maple syrup. Now that is the way to my heart, one spoonful after another.

This is getting longer than I intended, so I’ll just combine the last two… and they’re another two bars – surprised?

The Armory and Brian Baru

The Armory is in the basement of a hotel and sports leather chairs and wallpaper that looks like old books lining wooden bookshelves. Brian Baru has live music and an outdoor porch and a bartender that gives me free shots. Which is pretty much the only time I do shots. He doesn’t take no for an answer. 

So, those are some of my favorite Portland, Maine places. At least off the top of my head. Who knows, maybe after this weekend, I'll have a few more to add to the list.

#2 & A Medium Coffee

The cement steps lead up to a screen door, glass during the three seasons that aren't summer. It had been over a year since I last swung open that door, stepped inside, walked up to that counter.

Community announcements plaster the front of the counter. Sunrise yoga classes, seeking jam-band participants Wednesday nights at 9 in back of the used book store, a constellation show at the planetarium - BYOB.

It's reggae, some Saturday mornings, that ushers everyone in, as if it doesn't trust the wafting scent of freshly brewed coffee or the sizzle of the grill to greet as proper hosts. Other Saturday mornings, it's an album of Pearl Jam, that lines us up and takes our order.

I always have a number two with soy sausage substitute and a coffee. Sometimes a vitamin water. XXX if I can reach. I went often before I left. (Leaving with connotations different than moving. Always phrased as leaving. Never certain why.) He knew my name then.

It had been over a year since I last swung open that door, stepped inside, walked up to that counter. Ordered a number two with soy sausage substitute and a coffee.

"Emily, right?" He didn't wait for me to answer before he wrote my name next to the order.

I wrote "Become a regular at a coffee shop" on a wish-list a few months after I left Maine. A few days ago, the day before I traveled back to Maine, a D.C. Starbucks guy gave me my iced-latte for free. "Don't worry about it; you're a regular." He waived my bank card away. He handed me the latte and the wish-list item to cross off. I took the latte but kept the list uncrossed. I wasn't sure of his motives. I was standing in the center of an international corporation. "It doesn't count," and I walked out.

Two days later, I stood at that counter of that neighborhood coffee shop with the best breakfast sandwiches I have ever had that serves the best coffee I have ever had. He wrote my name down next to my usual order and I finally realized: I had been a regular all along.

It Bubbles Up

It bubbles up.

And pours over. 

Sweeps me away.

Kick my feet up.

And float on. 

The television stands in the corner, the couch covered in corduroy, extra cushions spread us out, but we're all here again. The Sox on the television, she's curled up next to him with the dog at their feet. 

Full from dinner, happy-exhausted from the day, the crux of the couch swaddles now. He comes through the door first and doesn't miss a beat, "Hey Emily! Howareya?" As though I've been here all those days in between. I like to think it's true.

Right before I fall asleep in the pauses between laughter, the crack of the bat, the sideline advice flung at the screen, he walks through the door. I'm bounding off the end of the couch and flinging myself into his arms before he's crossed the room, but he catches me in a bear hug. He knew to catch me mid-air before I launched myself. He knew to catch me before he walked through the door.

We sank into the couch. Home, all of us, even if. Even if. I squeeze her hand and she knows. She's wearing the same toothy grin I am. I wonder if the shine in her eye is really hers or mine. She heads for bed while I fall asleep on the couch. To the cheers of the crowd and their rolling laughter.  

Wanderlust Wednesday: Paris, France

I think it may have something to do with the newly inherited print above my bed, but I am so loving the day dreams this city offers. 

Where would you like to be this Wednesday?

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Wanderlust Wednesdays Inspired by This World We Live In

Photo Credit

Can I Tag This "Travel"?

Just in case I didn't have enough going on right now with the long work hours and the moving...

I had an unexpected trip home this weekend to drop off/store my car and, of course, spend some time in the city...

And will be spending the next two weekends here...

With four days in D.C. in between. Because, ya know, I'm a good planner like that... (Actually, my plans-gone-awry seems to be working for me this summer, I can't really complain!)

I'm hoping this week brings some down time sanity back into my life and I can resume some form of regular blogging. (But I can't make any promises...)

Hope you guys had great weekends!

things (more than)

things i have been craving this past week:

the weight of my camera in my hand
the exhale that comes with writing
time to watch my thoughts wander
long phone calls to faraway people
meals, especially dinner, away from the office
the feel of book pages between my fingers
disappearing into a fictional world

***

things i am grateful to have experienced this past week:

a breeze cool enough to give me goosebumps
an evening picnic in the park
live music - a small band with a strings section
a top five most comfortable bed ever
^ the fact that it is mine
iced venti vanilla lattes twice a day
commutes that end before i notice they have begun
space for pandora 9am - 5pm
hallway acoustic concerts

wishing i could be here more
but so grateful for silver linings

{ Photo of the Day }

Untitled, a photo by Emily_Katherine on Flickr.