Obviously, Doctor, You've Never Been a 13 Year Old Girl.

After four days of bliss away from work, I am not looking forward to my first day back to Le Sad store after this mini vacation.


It have been a very hot and humid week in new york. The landlady hasn't installed the AC in my room yet, and I have spent much of the week in bed, laying very still with a water bottle near by to either drink f or pour from. I am not above pouring water on myself to cool down.



With only 3 days of work this week, rent and student loans looming I wanted to take it easy. I can only stress so much about every detail before the sound of my own internal monologue drives me crazy. So I made an attempt, outside of the weather, to relax.



I spent Monday in the aisles of the library finding a handful of books to kick off the summer of reading. I read a lot more during these hot, humid months. Maybe it's because the weather always reminds me of immobility. Some days it would get so hot in south carolina the only thing you could do without breaking a sweat was curl up with a book.



I spent most of my summers doing this because I had little friends and/or activities to participate in. My mom worked (works) crazy hours which prevented her from hanging out with us during the day. My brother was too busy being...well...an older brother who didn't want to hang out with his sister all damn day.




So I read. A lot. To pass the time. To connect to something. To amuse myself. I read countless books whose titles I wish I would have written down. And even now, despite the friends and the deadlines and the applications to apply to. Despite the busy nature of my life these days, I have spent every summer since those lonely high school days reading as many books as I can in the comfort of my home with music in the background.


It's weird that I continue stockpiling books during the summer. But I take such a simplistic delight in reading books all day and drinking pink lemonade (there must be pink lemonade near by). I've already finished two of the titles I checked out this week and am trying to get through Just Kids by Patti Smith. But it's a little too pretentious for me. It's a little too 'artsy fartsy' for my liking. But I am determined to finish it. I am determined to finish a bunch of things this summer because the humidity is preventing me from doing much us.




I am simultaneously reading Virgin Suicides by Jeffery Eugenides which is one of my favorite books of all time. I don't think I will ever grow out of the connection I feel towards the tragic Lisbon sisters and the boys who mourn them. Every year since I picked the title up, four or five years ago, I have read the book like it is the first time I have come across the novel.




It is lush and atmospheric, lovely and devastating and speaks to the part of me that will always be this very delicate and frustrated girl on the fringe. And while I am not a fan of most adaptations, the movie turned out to be this beautifully crafted and well acted picture that I always recommend in tandem to the book.

There is something so airy and dreamlike about the picture. There is something so painful yet beautiful about the actress who each represent the five siblings

And while I am not the hugest Kirsten Dunst fan, she does a fine job portraying Lux. This beautiful, tortured, rebellious soul.

To be honest I read this novel more so because of the emotions it stirs up, rather than the fact that I always usher in the summer with a re-reading an old favorite.


Because I am feeling a little bit disjointed, aloof and askew these days, I have gravitated to this story where the girls seems so lost by their own existence. And while my helpless and disconnect will never feel as isolating as theirs, I can't help but relate in some weird way to them; wanting to spend a few hours understanding it all from their 'voices'.



I can't tell if my own sudden weightlessness has anything to do with general anxieties or restlessness. But lately I have been feeling out of touch. That I am not congruent. That my body and mind, thoughts and actions are going in opposite directions. And I wonder how I have lost control. Or how I have lost the grasp on it all.



I know it will pass. It always does but until then I most find some way to piece everything back together. I think another random day in the city would help. I think another day walking around with my camera, snapping pictures and then 'accidentally' getting lost in a cupcake shop would do some good.


I would love to find another garden to go to, but the only one that remotely looks interesting is in the Bronx which means I would have to take a train, a subway and a bus. Too much travel if you ask me.


If I weren't so against sitting in a park by myself, I would head to a part of central park that not many tourist visit. A small enclosed space of rocks and greenery. But I feel like secret places, such as that, has to be shared with someone else. For security sake.

But I will head to the city next week. I will. I will. While I don't mind exploring the difficulties of being an intuitive, delicate girl...I've learned not to linger in that mood for too long. While I love the Lisbon sisters and the tragedy of their youth and beauty, I can only relate for so long before I remember that I have to keep moving. That I can't lull in my own sense of disconnect for too long.


It's okay to feel weightless everyone once in a while, but the longer I stay there the harder it will be for me to return to solid ground.