"I'll school, you get schooled" or perhaps this adds to my mystery.

There is a feeling I get when I am driving home to my parents. I often wish I were wearing a red dress and that the light from the windows was tanning the tops of my kneecaps. I'd love for my mom to tell me that the tops of my legs were "miscolored" or "reddened" and blame it on Wilmington, North Carolina. 

On the ride, I think of things, or think up things. I often remember Robyn as a junior in high school--the way she laughed with her teeth when she told me how on Sunday afternoons, with the car windows rolled down, she feels like she is in a gusty music video. And, on some afternoons, when I'm riding alone, I try it too--pretend she is on the side of the highway with a boombox and a camcorder. 

I think of the songs I love because my parents love them-- Rod Stewart's raspy songs about women and Boz Scaggs. I think of cleaning the house for ten dollars on a Saturday. I think of my sister, who is as grown-up as she can be at nineteen years old. I think of her perfect eyesight and her Outer Banks trips. 

I think of animal deaths and italian ice and why I hate the sounds I hate and three years from now and four years from now and what it means to be sincere or apologetic and all of my old haircuts and what lessons I still have yet to learn. I think of summer, also fall, but mostly spring. I do math in my head and attempt to invent a way all boats can travel at night, so no one has to stop enjoying themselves. 

Can you crawl out of your window?

I remember you and I remember me, though it must have been days ago. In the hours where you are standing in front of me, first I think, "Soon you will leave and I won't see you for months, maybe a year," and then I think, "These are the ways you've changed and these are the ways you haven't." 

At one time, we were both sixteen and in love. We asked questions and cleaned windows and read the dictionary and got our drivers licenses. We touched each other like two people with parents and pets at home. We were children, and I was just learning how to iron a shirt. 

When I saw you days ago, you brought me a book of lesser known british poets that a friend of yours had kept for years and years. The binding was chipping like paint. "Keep it in a safe place. It's old." I hugged you and said it smelled like sewage. Then, I laughed and thanked you for it.

You kissed me in every room in my house, standing on the hardwood, beside the dryer where I hang dishtowels, beside lamps and blankets. And, then we sat beside each other and named the reasons why we were not in love. You left that day and told me you were  happy to know that if you brought your wrinkly clothes, I could lay them on the floor and iron all of the wrinkles out. 

P.T.U (pretty torn up)

Dear Michael Jackson,

Last night I sat alone in my bedroom in the dark and listened to "Man in the Mirror" entirely too many times. I love you because you sing songs that make me feel nostalgic. In addition, last night I went to a going-away party for two girls and they had a slideshow playing on the TV and it made me feel like I was at a visitation, even though both girls were in the kitchen. I was sad to hear the news, but even sadder that I don't have the television special that aired a couple of years ago. I would have loved to have watched it last night and remembered you as a breathing person.  Perhaps I will purchase it off Amazon.com. In July, I may go see a Michael Jackson cover band and dance like you're still alive and planning a world tour. 

Love,

Lindsey

P.S. I will definitely purchase the DVD off of Amazon.com. I feel like I'd be at a loss without it.

things that i love that i hope everyone loves as well.

Here are the top 30 things, big and small, that have made me feel lucky, necessary, or excited. This list spans from age 12 to the current:

1. Aretha Franklin's "Say a Little Prayer for You".

2. Prayer.

3. Not owing anyone money.

4. Automatic car windows.

5. Daylight Savings Time.

6. Catching fish on the Fourth of July.

7. Memories that involve Rod Stewart.

8. Fat kittens

9. Turning right on red.

10. The internet

11. Amaretto Sours.

12. Stephen King's "On Writing".

13. Zippers

14. The ability to make something stinky smell good. (see: 15)

15. Febreeze's Limited Edition Christmas "Sugar Cookies and Baking" spray.

16. The idea of a million dollars.

17. Sandals. (not the resort)

18. Being invited over to play.

19. Tea, hot and cold.

20. Avon "Skin So Soft" Lotion.

21. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YDLwivcpFe8

22. Telling people Tuna's "fat pouch" is housing two kittens.

23. The feeling of having walked entirely through a museum and not missing anything.

24. Not having to repeat myself.

25. Simple electronics.

26. Polite telephone conversations with older people.

27. A good bed.

28. Sing-a-long songs.

29. Tacos.

30. The phrase, "If you say so".

Note: these things do not include the standard: life, love, peace, happiness, family, friends, and other moralistic values. 

Additional note: In some cases, however, (see: # 30) they may be just as important to me. 

since i've been gone/since you stopped tweeting.

things that have happened or failed to happen as a post-graduate of the University of North Carolina at Wilmington:

1. I got a blog, per Lia's request and to prove to myself that I can maintain something that doesn't need air, food, or shelter. 

2. I became a recluse 5 out of the 7 days of the week. Note to self: this should give me more blog-updating opportunities.

3. I didn't "find myself" or uplift anyone else.

4. I got offered my own column at ArtSync Magazine and accepted. In other words, I committed to something that wasn't a marriage proposal. 

5. I debated moving to Texas and Brooklyn and DC and back home to Lumberton. I didn't, but I started leaving the house without drying my hair more often.

6. I began working at a call center. The most fulfilling aspects of working at a call center are developing an alias and the heightened tone of your telephone voice. 

7. I became kind of poor. Sometimes, I just eat what I like to call "dinner sides". These include: mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, and black beans.  This is not by choice.

8. I cut my hair.

9. I moved into a beautiful house and have a roommate who gardens. We have very adult decorations and a plethora of toilet paper and pets. 

10. I started to miss people and my old life and my old funds and old jokes that no one reiterates anymore. 

11. Here is a picture of me, hanging with one of my old college buddies. Don't I look tired?

Thank you, Lia, for convincing me to get a blog, though you (and perhaps my parents if I tell them that it's G-rated and necessary to my growth) will be the only one to read it. I'm satisfied with that. At the end of the week, my column should be coming out. It's called "Shedding Heavy Light". I decided on the ominous title, so you'd feel more drive to read it. Oh, another thing to consider:  I get fanmail now! Or I will soon. More news to come.