XXXIX

“People think because we’re young we aren’t complex, but that’s not true. We deal with life and love and broken hearts the same way a woman a few years older might.”

— Rih

Robyn Rihanna Fenty | Anti

Anti, Rihanna's 8th album, dropped on 1/28, and it turned platinum before the weekend was over. This album is different than anything else she has released. In an interview with MTV she said, "I just wanted to focus on things that felt real, that felt soulful, that felt forever. I wanted songs that I could perform in 15 years; I wanted an album that I could perform in 15 years. Not any songs that were burnt out." She accomplished that goal, the variety on Anti is overwhelming.

Here is the order of my favorite songs on the Deluxe version of Anti (16 songs total):

1. Higher
2. Yeah, I Said It
3. Work
4. Love On The Brain
5. James Joint
6. Desperado
7. Needed Me
8. Sex With Me
9. Consideration
10. Goodnight Gotham
11. Same Ol' Mistakes
12. Pose
13. Woo
14. Close To You
15. Never Ending
16. Kiss It Better

The songs on Anti remind me of many different artists. Not sure if that's good or bad, but I'm focusing on the fact that they're very different for Rih. Higher reminds me of BiBi Bourelly, which made sense when I found out BiBi helped write it. BiBi also contributed to Yeah, I Said It, my other favorite track. James Joint sounds like The Internet. Consideration reminds me of Estelle. Love On The Brain has Alicia Keys vibes. Never Ending feels like it should be on an album with the songs she did for the Home soundtrack.

The album was a huge surprise for me. I first listened for the bangers, the radio hits, and I didn't find any obvious ones. I was left with an album I can listen to eating dinner with my boyfriend, on rih-peat at work, night driving, or just about any other mellow scenario. This album has depth and complexity.

I'm happy Rihanna is exploring new sides of her music, even though I'm sure many of her fans feel a bit confused by Anti. If she continues down this road, her releases will (hopefully) stop reminding me of other artists, and instead, scream Rih. I may need to see her in concert for the 4th time so I can experience this new Fenty.

XXXV

“1.
I say, ‘I am fat.’
He says ‘No, you are beautiful.’
I wonder why I cannot be both.
He kisses me
hard.

2.
My college theater professor once told me
that despite my talent,
I would never be cast as a romantic lead.
We do plays that involve singing animals
and children with the ability to fly,
but apparently no one
has enough willing suspension of disbelief
to go with anyone loving a fat girl.
I daydream regularly
about fucking my boyfriend vigorously on his front lawn.

3.
On the mornings I do not feel pretty,
while he is still asleep,
I sit on the floor and check the pockets of his skinny jeans for motive,
for a punchline,
for other girls’ phone numbers.

4.
When we hold hands in public,
I wonder if he notices the looks —
like he is handling a parade balloon on a crowded sidewalk;
if he notices that my hands are now made of rope.

5.
Dear Cosmo: Fuck you.
I will not take sex tips from you
on how to please a man you think I do not deserve.

6.
He tells me he loves me with the lights on.

7.
I can cup his hip bone in my hand,
feel his ribs without pressing very hard at all.
He does not believe me when I tell him he is beautiful.
Sometimes I fear the day he does will be the day he leaves.

8.
The cute hipster girl at the coffee shop
assumes we are just friends
and flirts over the counter.
I spend the next two weeks
mentally replacing myself with her
in all of our photographs.
When I admit this to him
we spend the evening taking new photos together.
He will not let me delete a single one of them.

9.
The phrase “Big girls need love too” can die in a fire.
Fucking me does not require an asterisk.
Loving me is not a fetish.
Finding me beautiful is not a novelty.
I am not a fucking novelty.

10.
I say, ‘I am fat.’
He says, ‘No. You are so much more’,
and kisses me
hard.”

— Rachel Wiley

XXXIV

“When it’s over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it is over, I don’t want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.”

— Mary Oliver

Lessons Learned in L.A.

Last year, I moved 3,000 miles away from my family, my home, my birthplace. I had done this before, but going to a California university had more certainty, more security. I had a clear and established goal, a place to live, and plenty of people at my fingertips to become friends with. This time, things were not as obvious or easy. I had accepted a job at an interesting start-up, but I had no guarantee that my time there would last and be mutually beneficial.

Nervous, but faithful that this was the right move for me, I landed at LAX with a lot of work to do. Luckily, my forever best friend and savior (Mama) worked her magic and after 7 crazy days, I had a car, an apartment, a bed, and champagne glasses. What else does a girl need?

To say the least, Los Angeles has proved to be a great place for me. In the last 12 months, I've increased my self-worth, my self-awareness, my respect for other beings, and developed a better understanding of life.  Out of many lessons, I will share 3 with you.

1. You are your other half.

The only way to be happy is to 100% live for yourself. It is foolish and unhelpful to live for or in terms of anyone else, whether it be a lover, friend, or role model. Your expectations and needs will never be met, leading only to repetitive heartbreak, frustration, and ultimately an unauthentic, unfulfilled life. When you live for you and you only, you free yourself and those you love. It isn't selfish, it's enlightened. This doesn't mean you're less of a loving and caring friend and lover, it simply means there are appropriate boundaries in the relationship. Love doesn't equal ownership. Love isn't two halves making a whole, it's two wholes fully accepting each other as they are and existing in peace and light. 

There is nothing more freeing than full autonomy in a relationship with another person. This helps make it quite clear when certain relationships are toxic and draining. You do not need to bend yourself for someone else: you do not and should not repetitively sacrifice your own feelings and well-being. As someone who has trouble letting people go, I've become strong and stubborn in who I invest my time and energy in. I no longer beg for someone's time. I no longer accept unbalanced friendships or love. I no longer abandon myself to try and fill a broken relationship. There is nothing more powerful than authentic love in relationships, it leads to a more authentic life. Learning this and living this has brought me more peace and happiness than ever before.

2. You do what you can and that's enough.

To my surprise, I was recently called a perfectionist. After reflecting on how hard I am on myself, I sort of agreed. I never think I'm doing enough. I never feel I am meeting my goals as quickly as I should be. These thoughts lead me to think I am not good enough. They lead me to believe I am simply not enough.

In 2015, I adopted 2 cats, went to 40+ concerts, traveled, fell in love, developed meaningful friendships, started painting, started writing, created my website, became a pescetarian, donated many clothes to charity, worked extremely hard at my job, got a raise under a year, went to DJ school in the evenings and more. In 2015, I did not get super fit and healthy, practice (dj) scratching/mixing, do enough charity work, get my brothers' Irish passports, learn how to be a better cook, become less attached to my phone, and more. These 'did nots' overshadowed all my accomplishments and made me feel like a failure.

Reflecting on the voices in my head, I realized the self-destructive nature of it all. Without consciously realizing it, I am making myself an enemy. These thoughts do not cause me to go to the gym more often, practice mixing more often, or make myself dinner more often, so what are they good for? With this realization, I worked on changing my perspective. 

I began allowing myself to be human. I began allowing myself to live without judgment from me. I watch Netflix in the evenings because I worked 9 or more hours that day and need to turn off.  I didn't have time to go grocery shopping that Sunday because I was enjoying my day off with my boyfriend and friends. Of course, I knew all of this before, but I didn't accept it as alright. Getting my permission to live at my own pace has been strange but, in so many ways, freeing. I would go as far as saying that constantly being my own friend and ally has lead to more productivity. 

3. Loss is a part of life and it is alright.

I have always put massive amounts of energy into those I love. I often sacrificed my own well-being for others. This made the heartbreak of a loss of a friend or lover unfathomably devastating and confusing. Each loss, no matter what the scenario, I found myself asking myself many questions: What did I do wrong? Why did they leave me after all I did, all I tried to do? Did I not do enough? Do they not see how much they mean to me? Why don't they find me worthy? Am I worthy? If I did something different, would there have been another outcome?

With lessons 1 and 2 in mind, I've taught myself this truth: loss is not my fault.  No amount of energy or understanding would guarantee that people wouldn't leave. Doing all that I did was a choice I made, and they didn't owe me for it. Ignoring my boundaries to comfort and support others is unhealthy and unsustainable. If my basic expectations are no longer being met in a relationship, it is okay for me to walk away.  Whether or not our relationship worked out has nothing to do with their worth or mine. 

A loss is never easy, but with a deeper understanding of who I am and what my values are, I am able to better digest the idea that some people are not meant to be a part of my journey forever. Looking back on all of this year's changes, I understand why certain people left my life at the time that they did. I did not and will not lose my identity when I lose someone. 

Knowing this brings peace; it allows me to accept things as they come. 

2015, thank you for allowing me to work on myself. Thank you for giving me opportunities and experiences I am beyond appreciative of. Thank you for bringing people in my life who brighten my every day and teach me valuable life lessons.

2016, I am ready for you. I am excited to continue my journey of growth and understanding in life and love. And I am grateful for every moment.

XXXIII

“It has to be the best feeling in the world when you fall in love with someone when they’re in front of a wide-open space, like a skyline or vast ocean or a mossy green forest. When you’re on the beach their naked feet are sunken into the millions of grains of sand shifting through their toes. They’re just one grain of sand, and your whole world sits in the crook of their smile. The beauty that surrounds them gets tangled up in the salty wind of their hair and nothing else exists except for that moment and that frame of existence, a raw negative exposed positive. There are so many places to travel but your country and your language is spoken in the rhythm of their body against the sea waves.”

— Emily Woodbury, Wide Open Spaces

Unsurprisingly, I've been writing a lot about love.

Here are a few pieces from December.

---

You’re sitting at the living room table with work papers eating up most of the wood. I open the door, you quickly stand and run to grab my elbow, the back of my neck. We dance. Rocking back and forth; left foot, right foot, left foot; we try to keep balance, barely breathing. You only let your face leave mine to stare at my lips. Your eyes look as if they have never seen the color pink before. I taste you and we continue our dance. Sometimes this goes on for twenty minutes. Sometimes I bring you down on the floor and get rug burn on my knees. Sometimes I shake away too quickly. 

Most times, I do our dance until the day melts off of me. Whatever I bring in from that day, you embrace. Sometimes I curse and talk loudly and get red in the face. You don’t say much. I used to feel alone in your silence, deserted in my state of uncontrollable emotions. I learned to embrace that your mind works differently than mine. You listen deeply, speak slowly, work delicately. You never raise your voice or abuse my love for you. You say the words I need to hear now that I’m willing to listen. They are few but perfect. You own a perspective so unique and rational. I’ve never experienced anything like it.

When we go out, I hold both your hands under the table. If you go to the bar, I look for you from wherever I am in the room. When we sit at a restaurant, you quietly squeeze my thigh and run your fingers up too high. When friends come over, we create distance between us, making sure everyone is comfortable. In all these moments, I’m thinking about your fingers, your tongue, everything that is only mine. I share photos of you on Snapchat, Instagram, and Facebook, but is that really sharing you, sharing us? To me, we are so private. Who sees how you make me cry of happiness when you have me pressed against the shower wall? Who sees my face in the empty bed when you leave at 4 am to go to work? Who sees us fall asleep in the sunlight on Sunday after a long morning of nothing? Who sees us rocking back and forth in our silent dance when I come home late from work? 

Who knows that when I am with you
I forget anything else exists outside the room
?

---

I left New York feeling black and wanting to teleport. While I sat at the gate, Rob sang a song about us he made up on the spot. Then I felt grey. I sat in 12A and tried not to throw up. Airports make it hard to breathe now. Running on 5 hours of sleep, I put down my tray table and slept in the worst variation of the fetal position. The grey lasted until I saw Robby’s Jeep pull up to LAX.

Then I felt blue. Every time we hit a red light, we would make out so hard, I fell into his seat. We got home and I was pink. Friends invited us here and there, but I wanted to be nothing but alone and naked. He had already made me homemade pizza and cookies and brought wine and a cat toy his mom bought me. I gave him his Christmas presents. The book of us. He said they surpassed anything he has ever gotten.

We showered and he kissed so many parts of my body, I no longer felt self-conscious after the week apart. We drank wine and ate cookies under the covers. I tickled him until he pinned me down and I couldn’t move. We slept on a broken bed. 

My cats forgot how to behave when humans are under the sheets. It was 8:02 and the sun was kissing the white walls like they were also reuniting. I had dry eyes and a sore throat but I was warm. He asked if he could get me breakfast. I felt alive, how could I stay in bed? 

I left in my PJ shirt. My hair was a white mop, and I didn’t have a lick of makeup on my skin. I put on Willow Smith and took the top off the mini cooper. I never felt more beautiful. We drove and the sun and the shadows made patterns I had never seen before.

I sat in the car and took pictures of the succulents lining the sidewalk while he went into Flake. Soon he was handing me the iced latte I didn’t have to ask for. “What do you want to do, baby?” “Look, no one is out this morning,” I said, “Let’s drive.” I sung along to WHATISLIFE? and stared at the clouds. The coffee melted on my tongue.

I had him take a left on Pico so we could face the sand. We drove staring at the water until we saw the Pier. I didn’t bring a hair tie or my wallet. He paid for all day beach parking in a half-empty parking lot. At 9:15, Santa Monica was our private beach. I exhaled and watched my feet and his walk in the sand. We sat close to the water, the waves were so gentle they barely crept up toward our toes. I didn’t mind that they messed up my order, but he let me eat half of his instead. He found a rock and showed me where the creatures used to live in it. He said we could turn into a necklace for me and put it in his pocket. 

By 10:14, we were dancing in the Pier Arcade. I was drunk off of sunlight and love. We held hands and got $6 of quarters. I beat him at Mario Cart. He beat me at Jurassic Park. I made us play Feed Big Bertha and I gave the tickets to a little kid whose Dad had a sweet smile and didn’t speak English. Soon we went through the $6 and moved on.

Below the right side of the pier were many rows of red and white crosses. I thought it was some anti-abortion protest and my heart started beating fast. I walked closer to read the signs. “Number of troops killed in Iraq and Afghanistan last week.” I stared at the hundreds of crosses in the sand and burst into tears. He held me in silence and wiped the tears off my cheeks. We didn’t move for 2 minutes. I thought about the families. My problems are nothing. My people are alive. 

I watched our shoes move over the strips of wood while the water got darker on either side of us. We walked til there was no more pier to support us. A violinist was playing Jordin Sparks’ No Air. “Who knew this song could be beautiful,” I thought. I didn’t know the time. The morning felt like a lifetime and like a second.

“Let’s go on the ferris wheel, babe.” I nodded, seeing that the rides were finally open. It was $16 for the two of us. He didn’t care. We sat for the pictures they wanted to sell us and I was reminded I was in my PJ shirt and looked like a muppet. I didn’t care.

I tasted him the whole time and took so many pictures I made myself motion sick. Every time we would go back down, the people in line invaded our world with their stares. I wanted to live in the sky where no one else could be a part of our universe. 

We slowly walked back to the car. At home, I barely noticed that he took our clothes off. My usual disposition would be to nap and sleep until 3. But I wanted more of everything. He put on his nice pants, I put on all black. My hair was wet, but my makeup looked better today on a face of love.

I opened the sunroof. He forgot his sunglasses, so he wore the ones I had just bought at Patricia Fields in Greenwich Village. I sang along to The Bird and The Bee. “Los Angeles Los Angeles, don’t ever let them change you.” He liked the part about “touching yourself.” It got stuck in our heads.

Salt was closed, and we went to Ox &Son. It was 3:08. I drank pink champagne. He drank a beer so dark and thick, I’m sure it was a milkshake. He ordered a burger with parmesan fries, I ordered a quinoa salad with goat cheese. The restaurant, full when we got there, was empty by the time I had his last fry. I told him about the disappointment and anger I brought back from New York. He held me under the table and told me things I needed to hear. I wiped tears off of my cheeks. I felt lighter. 

I showed him the Polaroid snap camera Santa brought me. “I want to stop being a slave to everything,” I said. “I will use this camera and my DSLR to capture our moments, to document everything. I will be better with my phone. I want to ignore it all next year.” He smiled. He hates phones and social media. “I love your presence. I want you consciously aware with me always,” he’s said before.

We said we would work out today, but I am 2 glasses of champagne in and in my leather Prada skate shoes. We agree to go back to the beach, we paid for all day parking after all. I play Willow Smith on Soundcloud. It is 4:11 and we have forty minutes until the sun will set.

The once empty beach is covered in bare feet and towels. There are gymnasts on the sand. I kiss him too much, but he knows exactly how tightly to hold my hand. We go to see how the length of the ferris wheel line. It is too long. Our violinist friend is playing that Avicii country/electro song I hate, but it’s pretty because of his sounds and the people who are laughing and dancing.

There are magic shows and psychics and musicians and too many people to walk very fast. We stand in the end corner of the pier and kiss and watch til the sun melts into the blue water. People applaud and yell out for the sun. I ask for ice cream. I have two bites of the banana split. It is awful. He eats the whole thing as we run back to the car before we get a ticket. He’s skinny and adorable and I’m often impressed by his eating. He’s gained 10 pounds being with me. Probably because I ask for ice cream and champagne instead of working out. I take pictures of the Bernie Sanders bumper stickers in the parking lot. He cleans his sticky face.

I won’t go home. I need more moments alive with him. We go to The Doughroom. I drink pink wine, he drinks another milkshake beer. We share warm olives and dance in the booth to The Kooks and MGMT. Our waiter wears a pink flannel that matches his pink hair. We contemplate going to see Duke Dumont in Hollywood, but it is expensive, and I am getting tired. 

He is asleep by 9:32 and I am watching AntMan alone. He holds me so perfectly no matter how deeply he is dreaming. Tom is asleep at our feet. I don’t know which one of them is cuter. I smile looking through the photos from earlier. I take deep breaths and turn on Bob’s Burgers. Babe opens his eyes to tell me he loves me while he is still dreaming. 

Sunday, December 27th. I am back in Los Angeles and feeling like yellow, red, lavender. 

I am gold.

---

XXXII

“Sometimes goodness comes from treating yourself. Not like you burned earth to dust but like you made it into a beautiful body crowned it with stars, put a precious coat over it and called it home.”

— Tapiwa Mugabe, Zimbabwe

“Your hair is too blonde” is the greeting my Grandmother gives me at our family Christmas party
“That’s really unattractive,” my friend says to me as she walks into my room and sees me relaxing on my stomach, ass up
“We really need to lose some 'lbs' in the new year,” my Mom says, while we eat the pancakes she made
“You look like Gwen Stefani,” my Uncle says, too quickly be interrupted by my Dad asking, “Is that an insult?” in front of 6 family members
“Do you want the pizza box with 1 slice in it or 2?” my friend says, trying to be funny but exuding judgment over my desire to eat at 1 am

Maybe they didn’t mean to say
For the millionth time
What I’ve heard since I was able to understand words:

I am insulting
noticeable

I am too much

I am not enough

Once again, my existence is an intrusion

appearance that overshadows my heart, my intentions, my soul, my accomplishments

Can’t they see

They turned me into an act of rebellion I didn't ask to be

Fuck your shame

However sugarcoated
Keep my body out of your mouth

A glimpse of this week's shame. Written December 2015.