written yesterday for writing the essay intro about conformity:

“Mamá, lets go to Montclair Plaza Mall!” I said, twelve years old and eager. It is in a rough area by the 10 freeway. Wouldn’t want to walk around there at night. Pretty much everything that surrounds it is sketchy: TJ’S LIQUOR with only the “TJ” and “UOR” lit up in red fluorescent, identical cheap condominiums painted in revolting shades of puke green, pale pink, or “Arizona Rust Brown,” bus stops with homeless clutching their Ralph’s grocery carts, and teenagers blasting their hardcore music while glaring across the busy intersections. Pretty disgusting place, in retrospect. But that day, this windowless, concrete, and white-trash-ridden haven was going to serve as a gleaming refuge for my tween insecurities. Alas, today was the day I would get my first training bra. After convincing my mom it was absolutely vital I get one (after all, “I’m almost thirteen and we’re gonna havta change in the locker rooms and all the girls have them and it’s junior high and Nina has one and and and and and…”), we stepped in the mall. Once inside, I forgot about the melting black asphalt outside, the smell of car fumes and the yells of the hysterical homeless; I was about to obtain the twelve-year-old-girl equivalent of an Elite Membership card. This was the letterman’s jacket to the meathead football player, the fake ID to the NYU student, the intimidating tattoos to Lil Wayne, and the plethora of adopted babies to Brad and Angelina. I was gonna be cool, respected, and most importantly, accepted.

written a year ago yesterday, about a night junior year:

It was one of those infinite moments where you swear that time just stopped, that you are the only ones there. She said to us that the sky was a “champagne supernova, like that Oasis song.” We agreed, we lay there on the grass mesmerized by the night sky, looking up. “I mean I finally get what the song is saying. It’s like the earth is just this tiny little speck and there are all these huge meteors, these huge bubbly stars moving around us and sparkling and here we are all insignificant, you know, all little and we’re looking at the vastness of the sky, miles out, and we don’t even know it, you know?” She started singing the lyrics of the song and then we all got up and rolled down the hill and there were rabbits on the grass. On another note, she had a dog named Roxy, a young golden retriever. Beth and I sometimes referred to her as “Satan” because she used her talons to rip our clothes and sink her teeth into our flesh.

10-18 inches of snow today. blew my mind!

OH HEY and if you are the new yorker magazine or nat’l geographic. i want to work for you. i want an internship.

doesn’t toast sound realllyyy good right about now?

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