My Cap Hill location is shoddy yet affordable (like me!), and I don't know that I'm ready to give up everything the Hill has to offer just yet.
We'll see, we'll see.
|You're viewing theworldahead's journal|
Create a Dreamwidth Account Learn More
Tonight I was thinking about alternate universes. Tonight I was thinking about a universe where everything is the same except you are alive.
I thought about what I would do if I could travel to that universe - would I stay?
I would tell other-me, though, I would tell her how much I miss you and how she should be grateful for every extra day she has with you and how she should make the most of them. We never know when we are going to run out of days.
I would probably ask for one more day with you, too. One more day with brunch and shopping and you doing my makeup and us drinking too much at the Merc. One more day.
It would not be enough - I wanted so many days with you, days until we were old and senile and still friends. I wanted all of your days.
But because I cannot have them, because you are gone, I think of other universes. In some we have never met, in some you are dead, in some I am dead, in some either or both of us were never born (in one we are cats, I suspect, and that is a great universe).
But here is the truth of me - in every universe where I know you, I love you. In every universe where I have lost you, I miss you. In every universe where we are still together, you make my life better.
I comfort myself with that thought - that across time and space so many Rebeccas can still have one more day with so many Clares.
I'm going to be posting some open letters to Clare while I'm in NYC this week - feel free to avoid my LJ until Sunday or so and I'll sound the all-clear after that - but if you'd like to read along please feel free to do so.
They'll be unlocked but have comments disabled - I'm not really looking for a dialogue, mostly just venting.
My dearest Cecily,
I slept with your cross in my hand this market weekend. It has been a year, a full year since I let you out of my sight. If He, in His infinite mercy, quoniam in aeternum misericordia eius, brings you back to me, I will not let you from it so simply again.
Your ghosts are back and walking again - brother and Sire both - and though I'd like to say it was a pleasure to see both, in truth I only enjoyed the company of your brother. Your Sire...polite, but immediately involved in some business which I do not know the nature of. We will talk, she and I. The rest of it - magi and treaties and fae and the threat of imminent demise ever looming at our doorstep - can wait until you are home and rested.
Wake soon, best beloved, and come home to me.
When love beckons to you follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.
For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth. Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast.
All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart.
But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed; For love is sufficient unto love. When you love you should not say, "God is in my heart," but rather, I am in the heart of God."
And think not you can direct the course of love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.
Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.
Good news, everybody!
(If you didn't read that in a Professor Farnsworth voice, get thee to Netflix)
I applied for a job within my department - slightly more hectic, requires more of me, pays $2.50/hr or so better - and I just received confirmation that I got it!
I'm really excited that I'll be able to put more in my savings account and get off work earlier (this shift is 8-4) and be a little more challenged. Huzzah!
My dearest Cecily,
We continue to fall apart without you here to aid me - I do not know how much longer I can clutch all the strings myself, and there is no one I can trust. I was never made for this, I know, but if I leave how many lives will be lost...or worse yet, ruined? I suspect that it is worse to live in Ushaw Moor than to die in it - no place I have yet been makes me so badly wish to leave it, and yet I cannot.
I cannot because I spent much of my Shabbat crying. I cried with Gideon, promised that I had a home for him away from this madness and death. What if I had not been here? Where would he find solace? I cried with Sir Beckett's betrothed - she happy, and I terrified for her soul. Quoniam in aeternum misericordia eius, I hope my words lodged themselves in her heart and take root. Who would she have turned to, were I gone?
Of course, as well, I wait for you - I will wait for you, best beloved, until the town is in cinders around my feet. Who knows how close that day is?
Ok, so recently some of y'all may have been witness to me really upbraiding Ethan about a shirt he chose to wear - and while I admit I was perhaps a little harsher than the situation warranted (and I have already apologized to Ethan for that fact), I absolutely stand by my critique.
A little background - Ethan chose to wear a shirt to a party that had the phrase (or one very similar to it), "When you run out of pepper spray, can I have your number?" on it. He thought it was funny - one would assume because Ethan (as anyone who knows him would tell you) is not at all the sort of man who would harass a woman to the point where she would genuinely fear for her safety (and would then presumably use pepper spray to defend herself), and certainly not enough of a dolt to continue to harass a women through a blinding haze of pepper spray. Ha ha, funny!
Nope. Not actually funny.
If I'd been a little less pissed and a lot more articulate, here's what I would have said.
"Dude, there are men out there RIGHT NOW who think that a woman owes them her time and attention. They think it's ok to harass her in the street, catcalling and yelling lewd suggestions. They think it's ok to approach her in a bar and continue to ask for her contact information after being repeatedly turned down - they think it's ok to follow her to her car and continue that harassment. THEY THINK WOMEN OWE THEM SOMETHING, AND THAT'S NOT OK. Now you, you're not one of those guys. We both know that. But every time someone, especially someone who is "not one of those guys", thinks it's funny to make a joke about assult, or about rape, or about race or any contentious and highly problematic issues...it makes it a little easier for someone to actually get away with being a douchebag who assults women (or men!), or a rapist, or a racist, because we've humorized and humanized it. It's a tshirt slogan, it doesn't actually happen to women. That's why that shirt is not ok, and why I'm calling you on it."So to you, my reading few, this is a heads up - if I see you doing something shitty, something that demeans a real issue that people face the world over...whether it's wearing a crap tshirt or dressing up as a "Native Princess" for Halloween or making a rape joke, I'm going to call you on it. I will do my best to unpack my issues and to communicate with you in a meaningful way about why I feel your attitude/dress/demeanor/joke isn't ok, and how I feel it's damaging. I may be pissed and not do the best I could, which I apologize for.
Stolen from Tumblr, which is my new favorite thing:
At this point, anyone who follows me knows I work in a comic shop. Or, at the very least, you know that I’m a comic fanatic. I feel like sharing this anecdote that happened today, which took a very crappy day and made it one of the best days I’ve had in weeks. And it involves a customer, his son, and Miles Morales, the new mixed-race Spider-man.
It’s Thursday. We sold out of the new Ultimate Comics Fallout #4 yesterday. Some paper or channel reported on the new Spider-man. If you haven’t heard, he’s half-black, half-hispanic, and he’s dark-skinned. This is major, some people being elated, some people being furious. I’ve seen some really racist things being said, both intentionally and unintentionally. Also saying that with characters like Batwing, Mr. Terrific, and Luke Cage, we didn’t need this minority character.
But anyway, the father is asking if we have it, and I have to tell him, no, we don’t, but we’ll get it back in next week. They’re about to walk away, but for some reason I stop them. Let them know that it’s really good, and cute.
Then, for some reason- some sense of pride, maybe, at just the fact that Miles exists, I add something when I speak to the father. I tell him, ‘and no lie, Miles looks like a darker skinned version of your son’.
The man’s response was immediate. He smiled, pulled his son in close, in a one-armed hug, and told him ‘you hear that? The lady says Spider-man looks like you.’
The boy, maybe ten, lights up. He just smiles as his dad hugs him.
And it occurred to me in that moment- how many times hasn’t the boy had the opportunity to hear that? To be told he resembles a hero? A superhero, at that? It’s easy to find, in the myriad of heroes, lighter skinned heroes. In the past few years, I found a year that I identified with, physically and otherwise (See: anytime I talk about Renee Montoya).
But I wonder how it felt to hear as a child for the first time ever, that one of your heroes looked like you. And I thought about how many kids don’t necessarily need to hear that, because there are so many characters that could look like them that it goes without saying. And I thought about all the parents and kids who are going to pick up this comic and see Spidey look like they could be related to him.
And this is different than Luke Cage, or Cassandra (Batgirl). There’s no hyper violent past (thus far), there’s no ‘they were trained as assassins’ or ‘a bizarre pimp past’. This is a kid who wants to do the right thing, and has the power to do so.
And that’s why Miles Morales is important. Because it’s another step closer to kids seeing themselves in their heroes.
This is a post for Lisa and Vince - if you don't want to spend the next half an hour squeege-ing the cute from your brain, don't look!
( Love is... )
So you can understand why I was a little teary writing this post, and why I am overjoyed to be a part of their handfasting tomorrow - to be a part of their lives going forward, their wonderful shared journey. I love you crazy kids! <3 <3
"AND WHILE WE'RE ASKING QUESTIONS, WHY DOES FUCKING SLYTHERIN EVEN EXIST!?
Even the Sorting Hat's like, "Ohhhh, if you're brave like a lion, you can be in Gryffindor/And if you're boring and a nerd, it's Ravenclaw for you/And the rest of the people just go in Hufflepuff, because whatever/And for the evil fucks, let me direct you to our dark wizard factory in the basement called Slytheriiiiiiin!" It makes no sense."
Go and read Lindy West's hilarious review of all the Harry Potter movies here. Too funny!