we made a magazine.

this is the product of a summer photography project and an autumn internship. find what you love to do, propose it to the people who can support you, and breathe it into existence. introducing majesty, a magazine created by, for, and about women of color,
created under the standard that Royalty is not elected. i don't know what else to say, so this is your cue to take a look. 

remember to always be busy for a reason. then, for the big reveal, stun them. i love y'all. 

-kiss kiss kiss, flood me where i sit-

i didn't feel it, but i feel now.

these are my last 10 minutes being a teen and i know nothing's going to change, but my stomach says otherwise. i'm sitting in my bed rounding up the last few things i will have with me from my teen years. i think my mom was the last person who saw me. i think ella fitzgerald was the last thing i listened to on my computer. i think solange or jennifer hudson was the last thing i sang.

i know it's inevitable, i know the warranty on your body is only 25 years, i know most first-world millennials are subject to adopting the term "adulting" as they wander beyond the bounds of whatever this is, and i knew it would happen to me, i just didn't think it would happen to me.

19 has been a year, i guess. most great things about it existed in moments and i and a few other people were there for all of the moments in between. some of it was necessary and a lot of it was not. i got some of the most important people in my life out of it, and i'm leaving some of the most important people in my life behind. and i don't know how to feel about that. mom asked me what i was going to say goodbye to in these last few minutes. "are we out of the era of mixed feelings?"it's i said no. to be honest, everything is weird and nothing is grounded and i don't know what i'm going to do. i realize now that confusion isn't a 6-year-long itch. and neither is an abundance of hurt. no matter how hard i try to leave those things behind, they will always try to latch onto me. i am not sure yet what i'm going to do about that.

this is the last 10 seconds. i'm scared. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1. this is it. i skipped a breath. my heart beat but i just sat there. i'm 20, this is 20. i didn't feel like i was 19 for awhile, but now, it's actually changed. i feel warm in my torso, under my heart and through my stomach and my spine. i think this is the first time i've actually felt different on my birthday. maybe this means something. maybe. i don't know.

i'm sitting in my bed rounding up the first few things i will have with me from my adult years. you are the first person i've spoken to. there is Christmas music playing in my sister's room.

now, i just need to pick the first song i will sing.

{pea ess: i know, it's been a long time. i don't know how much longer it will be. but know this, i love you. and i have never stopped.}

the high cost of psyching yourself out.

i think i became afraid of hard work once i decided it wasn't worth it anymore.

the only real tradition we have in our house is that every four years, when the summer olympics come on, we make queso and buy a bunch of sweets and clear our calendars because we're going to watch it. 

i know what i'm supposed to write about, i just don't want to say it. 

when i was a year-round swimmer, our coach would give us goal sheets to fill out. they were grey and our team logo was a yellowish-goldish colour. that might've been on the printer. anyway, we had to put our short-term goals and our long-term goals on it. i don't remember if we had to put our names on it or not, or if we had to keep a copy for ourselves and give one to our coach. mine said "i want to be the first black woman to win gold and break the world record in the 50 free." i don't know the integrity of that goal, if i would've been the first black woman, i never did my research. but i wanted to be an olympian. i wanted to have my water slap of victory, i wanted everyone to say my name, i wanted to represent the people who looked like me, i wanted to stand on the podium and cry and go pro and get interviewed and be spoken highly of then i quit. and to be honest, i saw the goal, i wanted to see the end result, but i didn't see myself getting there. and that's all i have to say about it. 

here an anecdote that may or may not be useful: state championships, short course. we drove four hours, stayed in a nice hotel. on the 200 free relay, my goggles came off in the water and i DQ'd my team. missed the flip turn. i was mortified, and i didn't do well at the rest of the meet. i didn't want to. state championships, long course. same relay, i was terrified. dove in, goggles stayed on, i did really really well. my coach was proud of me, and i wasn't scared anymore. it was the starting point of a whole new level of training and i knew i would have to start picking it up. but i didn't see it. i wasn't feeling it. i hit the threshold, and i stepped back and let the others go downhill. 

i have dreams about swimming often. about going back to practice, about getting in the pool. and i always get anxious. i wake up scared, then i relax because i know it's not real. but when i'm stressed, when i have some bad energy i want to get out, i turn to the pool. so i don't know what that's about. is it in my blood? is not drowning part of my DNA now? it's been happening more often lately. dreams about sitting on the edge, of diving in, of going hard, of going back. 

and now the olympics are on, and we're watching them all together. and we know someone who made it in swimming. and she's doing the races i would've done. if i stayed on track and crossed the thresholds, i would've been in rio right now, i think. and knowing that, and being at home instead, is disappointing. because it was on me. anyway, the olympics is on tape delay. we're about to watch michael and ryan do the 200 im. everyone else knows how she did. one friend i know posted about it on facebook, sans spoilers, and it looks like she's done well. and let's be real. i'm f-ing terrified. i'm scared she's going to do what i wanted to do. seeing someone else achieve your goals pisses you off, it makes you cry a fever, lock yourself in your room and sit on your pile of clothes on the floor. i'm afraid she's going to do it. maybe not all of it, but enough of it. i should've been there. i should be there. i want to go there. but i don't. 

and i don't know if i will. 

evacuation.

original photo

the air is a messenger. it is a transporter of goods. but my body stops the air from doing its job. there are some things the air can't pass through. my anger, my fear, my inability to communicate when i get stressed, my restlessness,

the outside can't penetrate my heaviness. the weightlessness cannot lift me, i'm just here, livid, standing in heels outside my grandma's door waiting to go in for dinner, and i don't know what to do. sometimes, when i'm in Bible study, i feel it in the pit of my stomach, the Lord saying "it's time." and i know it's true. but i can't lift it. and it's throwing me down. the air doesn't feel this way, right? does it feel anything? why can't it penetrate my soul and vacuum out the red? because unforgiveness is red, you know. it crawls in your blood sells and drinks until it runs your immune system, and you're dry, because you can't live with it.

i guess my big question is, and i'm sorry for probably confusing you, things are just really hard for me right now, and i think i came back to write again because it's super therapeutic for me, and what else am i supposed to do ???? my big question is, the air current flows around me but how can a human body hold all of this stale at once? how can it all sit inside my abdomen but no one else can feel it too? do you know what i'm feeling? do you know how much i thirst for it? how i want to be neutral again, ready, but able to enjoy the light, to feel the lightness, to feel nothing, to elevate. do you even elevate? have you left? i feel like you've left me behind.

pray for me. 

and when they say you can't, you can.

book is out. i'm sitting here sweating in my chair and listening to ambient music instead of jazz and the book is out. so go buy it. or several. now, you have no more excuses. whatever you want to do, do it. so long as it's good and true and right, i will support you, just as you have supported me. 

-kiss kiss kiss, holy dearest-

{pea ess: listened to aquaman to ring midnight in. isn't that just so sappy of me?}

unbroken.

it's coming now. the book, i mean. i finished it, and we're in the process of getting it published as an ebook, and eventually being published in print. i didn't know how to say this for a long time so i waited until the words came, but now they're here. i think it's because i saw unbroken last night, and i realized i had no more excuses for anything. they were no longer valid enough to keep me complacent. the countdown is coming, and soon there's going to be a real, tangible product of everything we've gone through that will be used to encourage and lift up others. 

so now it's time to get hyped. it's time to get really hyped. because this is real. it's happening. i knew it when i wrote my author bio. (that's when everything becomes official, right?) i feel it in my gut. something big is going to happen because of this. maybe it already has. 

tell all your friends. show them the secrets. tell them it's been in process for three years and this is it. it's not even the finish line. it's still the beginning. we've made it this far, kid. we've made it this 

-kiss kiss kiss, mr. misty-eyed-

national poetry day was yesterday and nothing came to me until now:

original photo

i'm afraid i'm getting depressed again,

school is taking up all of my time, 

i unfollowed you on twitter because you're doing what i started three years ago and you're getting recognition for it and it's easy for you and IT'S NOT FAIR 

it's hard falling asleep,

it's hard not to be afraid of your hands reaching where they shouldn't go,

i don't know what's going on in my head right now,

nothing is making sense, 

i think i'm a lot more foolish than i want to believe,

and i am ashamed of that

everything is hard

when you've convinced yourself that nothing is wrong

so well 

that you forget all about it when you wake up in the morning. 

honesty.

sometimes i think about the things i do that make me fall short of the Glory of God. because i operate under a higher standard, and when i fail, that needs to be put to right. then, sometimes, i think about the things i do that make me fall short of the Glory of Jocelyn. because i also operate under an unattainable standard of beauty. and most of the time, i do not find myself worthy of that standard.

last week, i was in colorado at a youth leadership camp held by klemmer and associates. over 50 gigs of photo and video were taken during that week. of the few photos i saw of myself, i didn't find any of them worthy of my personal standard. there was always something wrong with how i looked. my hair, the size of my face, my weird smile. i didn't like it, sure, everyone else did, but that doesn't matter. because i didn't. colorado called for Jesus t-shirts and sweatpants and red tennis shoes and high ponytails, things that deviate from my 50s housewife lifestyle. and after seeing those pictures of myself looking like that, i was extremely disappointed. in myself. because i looked like that. so i came home, put on some makeup, and took selfies to make myself feel better.

real talk: i think, deep down, the reason i take selfies is because i can control the way i look. i don't like candids of myself because God forbid i might deem myself ugly. i don't take selfies solely because i'm "feeling myself," i take them so i can not only give other people permission to find me beautiful but so i can give myself permission as well. it's actually really funny: people can find you beautiful at all sorts of different times. when you're making stupid faces or doing an impression of someone else. but when you look at the documentation of those moments, you only find yourself worthy in a mere fraction of them. i wouldn't be surprised if you find your physical self beautiful less than other people do, because i do that. the thing is, we don't look the way we think we look. i was scrolling through pictures of one of my friends and i thought while they were pretty, they didn't look like that in real life. they didn't look like that when i was around them. i think we put on a sort of facade for ourselves so that we can think we're as beautiful as others say we are. you know how someone compliments you on something and you have to examine yourself to see if you were truly worthy of that comment? we do that thousands of times during the day. and i think these constant selfies, this constant "confidence" is my way of doing that. i'm giving you permission to find me beautiful. i'm giving me permission to find me beautiful. but it's not all of me. i have more expressions than this. this isn't my smile, it's the one i wear for the girl in the mirror. i don't know if that means i need someone to take more candids of me, but. i know it means i have to love myself in and out of the camera. i guess that's why it's so important for other people to see you. because sometimes, a lot of the time, all the time, they see more than you. and we need to see more in us.

-kiss kiss kiss, centuries-

{pea ess: colorado was amazing. the best week of my life, hands down. and i'm still processing all of it. 

but you can 85% count on a post about it. because it deserves its own post. anyway.}

alright, i just need to address something here.

i was going to start this post with how i just earned the right to vote and have just recently begun caring/learning about some of the big issues that seem to be dominating our world and social media. but forget that, let's just get straight to the point.

i'm really freaking tired of people being vague about their views and beliefs on things that matter. i HATE seeing tweets and facebook posts and instagram pictures that basically sum up what happened rather than express their opinion on it. i HATE when people use others to say what they want rather than saying it themselves or use statistics to prove someone's guilt or use God to sweep the issue under the rug rather than have it dealt with. Christians, i'm looking at you. 

i used to be one of those vague people. alright, it some cases, i still am. when the ferguson and baltimore riots became the center focus of the media, i was bombarded with differing opinions from my family and my peers (some of whom reside on social media). and while i sided with the majority of the opinions coming from my peers i was unsure of what to do with my family because i didn't want to disappoint them. you know how you grow up with a certain set of beliefs and you're expected to adhere to them because your parents do and when you don't, you're seen as some sort of heathen? yeah, i'm kinda going through that right now. that's not to say my parents and i have starkly different beliefs, but they're not the same anymore, they're just similar. i don't believe the deaths of mike brown or trayvon martin or eric garner were solely their faults. but i also don't hate the police and i do not feel right saying 'f the police' just like everyone else. i'm not opposed to rioting, but i'm not for the looting. just to stay safe, i settled in saying that these people had died, and that they weren't coming back, and that the mourning of the people who loved them was completely valid. all of these things are true. but in other aspects of the issue, i stayed quiet. i let myself get vague. and while a lot of these issues can be extremely complex, it's good to know what you stand for. not just have an idea. 

so the latest issue, the duggars. you should all have an idea of what happened considering all the attention it's gotten. what i have seen in the media are replicas of the following statements "i don't know how someone can take pride in digging up another person's past" and "they're not perfect, this just proves that" and "no sin is too great for God to forgive." the last two of these statements are true. but they are not the complete point. i wish people would stop being so vague and just say what josh did was wrong, plain and simple. i wish they'd understand that it is extremely hard to forgive and cannot be done quickly or easily. i wish they'd understand that sweeping this sin under the rug by saying "Jesus forgives" completely undermines the struggle people across the world experience after being abused. because while He does forgive, there are still things that have to be dealt with to make sure both parties are okay. do NOT defend anyone without knowing the whole story or knowing as much as you can. you have to remember that there are people who have gone through this. and it's a whole lot worse than you think. as for digging up another person's past, it's done. it has happened. it's over. and since it has been brought to light, we need to first and foremost recognize that this is wrong. and we need to stop being afraid to say that. end rant, drops mic, okay? okay.

{pea ess: please keep those abused in this horrible situation in your prayers. they seem to have been forgotten in this mess.}
{pea pea ess: my mom brought this up and i think it's spot on - whether or not josh was a believer when he hurt those girls, his being saved should NOT be an excuse for his deeds. sin is sin. and in situations like this (in any situation), it should not be swept under the rug just because you've confessed your love for Jesus. okay i'm done.}

aquaman.

(things from my tumblr that weren't intended to go together but do.)

(should i make that a series thing?)

and just like that, i'm finished. one year of college done. i'm feeling particularly mushy these days, i think it started sometime before i went to see walk the moon in concert and just kinda escalated since then. (i've listened to aquaman at least 124 times since last week and i think i've cried every time.) the weather is actually kind of disgusting. it's raining and all that, but it's not the cleansing rain everybody loves--it's the sticky, humid rain that makes your notebook paper all moist and your hands all clammy and your hair too stringy to handle. i would probably be used to it by now if i didn't spend every waking hour in the music building at school. literally, we were in there so long the sun had gone down and the rain had already marked its territory. the weather is making things feel weird. but then, it's also making me feel. 

i don't know, i've just been thinking about a lot of things lately. for example:

1. sometimes i hate doing the right thing and believing what's right. okay so i don't hate it, but sometimes it's not fun. it's not enjoyable being the one person who doesn't have the same opinion as everyone else. you know that it'll pay off and maybe you'll be rewarded for sticking to your convictions, but when it comes down to it, you just wish you could believe what everyone else did and agree with them and not think about it twice. but you can't do that. and that sucks. 

2. alright, God has this really interesting sense of humour. my piano teacher says He's always smiling down on us, and i think that's true. but goshbubbles. sometimes i think He just straight up laughs at us sometimes. not in a cruel way, but in a "oh, that's so cute, if only she knew" kind of way. for example: when i got to college i thought that since i mostly had my style together and was confident in who i was, it would be super easy for me to get a boyfriend. and i thought i'd get one fast, and then God was like "lol you thought" and so i'm sitting here, still single, listening to aquaman and sobbing quietly. not really sobbing, but. i know this is not the time for boyfriends and things like that. or maybe i'm still trying to get that through my head. but i feel like God is up there chuckling to Himself, all like "oh, jocee, if only you knew." and He's right, because i don't think i do. 

3. i have little crescent moon shadows under my eyes. i think it's time to get some concealer. also, i want 1940s inspired sling-back sandal-heels. 

4. i think i've gotten so comfortable with being alone that i spend more time trying to avoid socialization than i do socializing. last night i hung out with my composer friend alex in her dorm with her friends and i realized that even though it wasn't much, what i needed was to spend some quality time with other people and talk about silly things. i think i've gotten a bit too serious. i think you need to make me step out and not let me turtle back into my little shell. because i'm super good at retracting, i just need to stretch more. 

5. i should probably exercise. and i need to change my diet, because this isn't working. 

6. nicholas petricca's dimple is so cute, oh my Lordest Jesus.

okay i'm done. i just needed to make sense of the things that were going on in my head. and i think i did that. i hope i didn't waste your time or anything, i just needed to talk. let's catch up again sometimes soon, yeah? yeah. 

-kiss kiss kiss, i said i'm not gunna take it from you i'll let you give it to me-

{pea ess: seriously been listening to walk the moon for eight days straight; they've intoxicated me, i tell you.}

i'm done now, let me go.

an angsty personal piece i did for my digital foundations in music class, it's short and to the point and explains what i want to say better than what i probably would've written out, i went to a great party today and i'm so tired and i want to shower and go to bed but i'm too tired to get up and i don't care anymore, i don't care if you see it because that is the reality and you need to know that it is not my fault. so. happy saturday, good night.

-kiss kiss kiss, think of the future-
{pea ess: to those who've been here since the beginning / have been hear near since the beginning, thank you so much. i got contacted this week from a sweet girl who's been reading for the longest time and her words were crazy encouraging, so i want to shout her out as well as any others who've done the same. y'all are crazy important. keep up the good work, i love you, i'm proud of you.}

i guess i'm doing youtube again.

so i'm making youtube videos again and i thought you should know. it seemed like the polite thing to do. 

-kiss kiss kiss, shangri las-

i love you so much. look at the title for a little bit and let that sink in. like chocolate melting on your tongue or pasta.

what to say, what to say... let's see. i did a birthday version of your song and it has some microphone problems and background noise but it's not like i'm good enough at digital audio to remove that and i wanted to give it do you sooner anyways so here you go; i was watching this youtube series called 'i love lucy and bekka' and OH MY GOD it almost exactly what we're going to be like when we live together; i was reading a lot of my old tweets for like zero reason and i realized how much love spilled out of from them and i love you, oh my God i love you so much and i am so so fricking proud of you and i love you and i could not have done any of this without you and thank you and God bless you and

and.

what else is there to even say. you. it's all you. it is all you. and i love you. so much.

happy birthday, five (almost six) days late on here, but. it's a big deal. it really is.

love,
your jo.

turning on the lights.

so, in retrospect, how would you say your year has been?
i wouldn't know.
and why's that?
i don't know. i've never been one to make end-of-the-year reviews and stuff like that. i mean i've tried, but it just never ends up working.
have you tried writing it down as you go?
i mean yeah, you have proof of that. but even so i don't find myself capable of summing things up. a lot of things have happened.
okay. so let's talk about the things that stand out to you.
sunday afternoon walks with her. crying at my graduation. buying a lot of semi-useless things that i enjoy. the train rides. the nap i had tuesday afternoon in the RTF building. when that boy stopped me and told me i looked really good. feeling really good. opening up my skin. and selfies, i guess.
are you sorry about any of those things?
i'm sorry for hurting myself. i'm sorry for seeing it as a way to deal with the onset of self-determined failure.
and how are you now?
i'm okay.
...
i'm okay.
okay.

sorry things have been so mellow and low and melancholy and quiet and dark around here lately. i promise to turn on the lights soon. this was written for my end-of-the-year review post that i never finished and thus never posted. but after reading it again, i think it ended nicely where it was. a lot of things happened last year that i don't remember, a lot happened that i do. and i can't summarize this year so far very well but i can tell you this: i said goodbye to someone i've known all my life last sunday. i cried a lot. we all did. it was hard and i'm going to miss her, but i know she'll be back and stronger than ever. i have to send her a letter soon. the next day, i slept over my friend's house who i've also known all my life. we stayed up past one and played rockband drum solos and pitch perfect and miss congeniality and the only drum solo i'm really good at is the final countdown. i would've made it to expert level but she didn't want to hear the song again so i'll have to play it when i go over there again. the next day, she and i and her siblings and our friends went to the rodeo. her sister bought me a wristband and i feel bad because she spent a lot of money on me but we had a lot of fun regardless. i rode quite a few rides. i screamed a lot. i laughed a lot. i ate a lot. but you know what? it was the first time in a really long time that i felt completely present. sometimes when i'm at church or at school or even at home, i don't feel like i'm completely there. i feel like some of me is missing, as though i'm halfway in a dream. but this time, i was all there. and it was so wonderful. i haven't felt this much nostalgia since i went to see la dispute with helayna last year (incidentally, that was a year ago today). the rest of this week felt weird. but i feel okay now. and i'm ready to go back to school. i guess there isn't really much of a point in me saying all this, i just wanted to. a lot of things are happening at the moment with school and life and friendships and stuff. but it's all okay. i have God on my side. 

-kiss kiss kiss, light jacket-

{pea ess: GUESS who's in a new tv show?! guess. it's peter pevensie. and i'm excited.}

let them spill their guts, cause one day they're going to slip on them (and God, sometimes i hope you do).

real talk.

i was taught that forgiveness was a big deal. and it is. it was engrafted into everything i was trained to be. if someone did something that i didn't like and it hurt me, we were supposed to come together and forgive. the following is a really bad example, but bear with me. imagine one of my friends says they don't like my drawing because i'm colouring outside the lines, and my feelings are hurt. and our moms say "hey that's not nice, you should apologize" and they do, and then my mom says "okay, they apologized to you, do you forgive them?" and my arms are folded and i'm scowling as much as my face allows, but i still roll my eyes and say "yes" and then hug them and then the whole thing is forgotten. how and why is that effective? sure, our first instinct after hurting someone is to reconcile. but are we doing that for them or are we doing it for us? and the real question is, when they've hurt us, what's really going on inside of our heads? do we really want to forgive them? are we ready to do it at that very moment in time?

i was taught that because Jesus died on the cross for our sins, everything we'd done or would ever do would be forgiven. but if you harbored unforgiveness in your heart and didn't forgive as God forgave you, you wouldn't be forgiven. so the way i saw (see) it was that if i didn't forgive on the spot i would go to hell. so for the longest time, when someone's asked me if i forgave them, i'd just say yes and leave because i didn't want to deal with the potential consequences of anything else.

or, what if you're told to apologize to someone, but you don't want to, because you're not sorry and they've hurt you and you don't want to forgive them? what then?

the point is, i have issues with forgiving people. if you hurt me bad enough i will ruin your reputation and i will not be sorry. sometimes people make me so angry i have to isolate myself so i won't be tempted to physical retaliate against them. because as you get older, forgiving is hard. especially when you can think for yourself and evaluate the situation in greater detail. i can't even tell you how many times i've gone to God and been like "listen, i'm having a hard time forgiving this person right now, and i can't do it by myself, so i'll need your help." at this point, i feel like nothing has changed. there are people who have done things to me repeatedly which makes forgiveness that much harder. so at this point, i'm terrified that if i don't simply find the balls to let it go, i'll go under.

i know my mom thinks (and is right) that i let people have too much power over me. and to be completely honest, i do. but here i am, too far in to turn back. and still unready to let it go.

obviously we need God a lot more than we let on.

-kiss kiss kiss, we got our riot gear on-

{pea ess: 2/3 of the title is via paramore's interlude "moving on."}

{pea pea ess: don't take that personally.}

but i stay quiet.

disclaimer: i'm not here to complain, even though i kind of am. it's just that this is how i feel right now. and i'm working on that. but i'm not here to apologize for it. let me speak for the things i have experienced.

my sister took these on Christmas day. it was mid-afternoon, i think, after we opened presents, and this dress was one. pinupgirlclothing (or pinup girl clothing if you like spaces or PUG if you like acronyms), the film noir dress in green velvet. or something like that. i'm not too good with titles. i don't remember if i ever properly told you, but i dress vintage now. that is, i'm a self-proclaimed housewife. give me pincurls or give me pizza. anything from the 1890s to the 1960s is my interest. and i'll take it retro (but preferably original), with a side of heels and S-waves to boot. and the best part is, i've started earning a little bit of cash for myself now, so i can buy where i want and on my own time. i mostly buy online, though, so things are extra convenient. 

i'm not here to tell you about my journey into buying vintage clothes or whatever, but let's go from the part where i own a few 80s pieces, some 90s, some 70s, but i don't have anything from the eras i really want. like the 40s and the 50s. and the earlier 60s. part of the reason is because i buy mostly from instagram where the prices tend to be a bit more affordable (etsy, i suppose, is the cream of the crop where things are a bit more steep), and part of the reason is because, well, not much fits me. 

my measurements are 40-32-40. depending on who you're buying from, that's a large or extra-large. and anything above a large is considered a rarity. and these sizes didn't start really becoming normal until recently, which makes me wonder what women my size and bigger did back then. did you make your own clothes? did you have to go to speciality stores? did you wear last decade's hand-me-downs? did you cry and hate the parts of your body that wouldn't give in to fabric?

i bought my first 1960s dress maybe a month and a half ago. it's a yellow shift dress with black polka dots and HUGE pockets. it fits like a charm, no chest-squeezing or straining to get buttons buttoned. it's in perfect condition, the quality is impeccable. i decided then that i would do my best to be prime vintage (1940s-60s) to get that kind of quality. and since then, it really hasn't been easy. i've bought some things that were supposed to fit but aren't quite there. i have a lot of things that don't completely zip up in back and i have one dress that's torn because of it. and that's when i realized that everything i wanted was catered to sizes labeled "smaller than me," and i was just a novelty.

and that's hard. loving yourself really isn't a seeing yourself in the mirror once, believing you're beautiful and running through meadows for the rest of your life kind of thing. there have been plenty of times where i think i look like trash (apparently that's an aesthetic now??) and felt horrible because of it. just because you love yourself doesn't mean you have sunshine and lollipops from here on out. there are some thunderstorms, too. and tornadoes. and tsunamis and volcanoes and stuff. sometimes when i see something i want and it's three sizes too small, i want to grab everyone who can fit those clothes (and not even buy them) and shake them and say "YOU DON'T DESERVE THIS!! THIS SHOULDN'T BELONG TO YOU!!" because that's how i feel. even if there were diets in the 50s that caused you to gain weight to look like such-and-such movie star, things are pretty similar now as they were then. and that's crazy hurtful, because these clothes aren't going to last forever. and what you want won't fit you.

but i stay quiet, and i keep scrolling. because that is what i'm good at. and that is what i do.

-kiss kiss kiss, my man godfrey-

this is not fact, it's fiction.

original photo

"Let's play a game."
"Walter, it's cold. It's fricking cold."
"It's not that bad. C'mon, it'll warm you up."
"Setting yourself on fire isn't my idea of a game."
"It's not that." He pulls a pack of Marlboros out of his right jacket pocket. 
"We're going to get high?"
"Nah. It's a deck of cards." He opens the top flap and reveals them to me. I don't have a response. 
"So here's the deal" -- he sniffles and grabs his nose for a moment -- "you call a card. Any card. Twos, threes, fours; jacks, Kings; aces, e.t.c... And pull it from the stack. And if you get the one you picked, I'm in love with you."
"Does it matter which suit?"
"No."
"Do you say it out loud?"
"Yeah..."
"See, that's stupid. Because if we both know, it takes away the element of surprise. Or secret knowledge."
"Nah, it's fun!"
"Have you played it before?"
"Just made it up," he tilts his head skyward and through the faint light I see the shadow of the bags under his eyes. 
"Cmon, let's go." He says, shuffling the cards on the sawdust ground and filleting them out to me for picking.
I sigh, rolling my eyes. I doubt he can see that. I doubt he can see a lot of things. 
"Seven," I say, reaching for the middle of the stack. I retrieve a six. 
"Ahhhhhhh," his laugh is hoarse from all that screaming. It sounds even better than before. "Cmon, go again."
I draw a second time, pulling out a six.
"Ssss," he hisses. "Tough. You were so close."
"Just go," I retort, taking a swig of my beer. 
"A'ight."
"You sound dumb when you say that."
"Shut up. Two." He draws. Jack. He draws again. Joker. 
"This is no fun," I groan. "I bet everyone else is far away by now." 
"It's your turn."
"Ten." I draw a jack. I draw again from the same spot and get a ten. 
"Looks like you're on a roll."
Two more rounds and we haven't guessed right once. He stops drawing twice just to see if I fail in the same way, and I do. I almost forget the point of this game, then--
"Dayum, girl," he laughs, his face coming out of the dark. "This must be some kind of miracle or something. You always draw one away from the number you called. Sometimes even from the same place in the deck."
"What are you trying to prove?"
"I'm not proving anything. It's your hand. I'm just saying you were sooo close. And you missed it."
"Okay," I let out a shallow breath, retreating further into the dark so he can't see my lip beginning to quiver. 
"I don't want to play anymore."
"Why, because you lost?"
"You lost too!" I say bitterly. 
"Alright, alright," he retreats. "One last go for me. Five."
"That's my favourite number."
"Then this is your lucky day."
He draws. The moon comes into view. We both look at the card, we look up. Our souls catch fire. 

i want to tell you something. i played this game by myself while my church family was playing just dance after the ball dropped (what a stupid tradition, if you ask me. it wreaks of innuendo, but it's still kinda funny). i got the exact outcomes the girl (i've named her jourdan) did in this story. and to be perfectly honest, it's not a good game to play. in fact, i think it's very damaging. i wrote this on a whim in the car on the way home after the party. i was listening to paramore and la dispute and everything was pitch black except my phone screen. and i've decided it's to be for the girl who commented here so long ago, about the boy. and i know it's not as optimistic as my other poetry but what i want you to know is, i've spent a long time, on and off, doting over the idea of having someone who liked me. and like you said, though you know Jesus is all you need, it's hard not believing you need a boy too. and it's not easy to unthink that problematic behaviour that's been passed on from friends and older relatives. but i want you to take care of yourself. i want you to know that i have been on this earth eighteen years and though i've begun to receive nice compliments and some notice, i'm still very much on my own. and now, in a world where women are saying you are strong and independent and don't need anyone, it's easy to feel bad for wanting someone. so whoever you are, whatever your situation, don't feel bad about it. but who you are isn't a direct function of who likes you. does that make sense? you can't force yourself to unlike someone or unwant them. but you have to take care of yourself. you have to. so i love you, i hope you're doing well, you're special and i'm so sorry to get this to you so late, but i hope you see it.

happy new year, darlings.

-kiss kiss kiss, heavens to betsy-

tell me it's okay to be happy now, because i'm happy now.

i did want to write a post on thursday. or friday. or probably thursday leading into friday, because friday was my 18th birthday and i wanted to tell you how i cried a little bit and listened to paramore from eleven to midnight and had a final and the best. burgers. ever. but i didn't know what to say. and then i forgot i was going to post. and then i didn't. so now it's sunday, or maybe it's almost monday, or maybe it already is monday (but now it's almost tuesday), i'm not sure. but i'm here, and instead of telling you how i felt, i wanted to show you something someone did for me. 

i have this really cute lilliputian friend name rachel. we've never met, but we've bonded over [failed] writing extravaganzas, our mutual love for british-born actors (her: asa butterfield, me: tom hiddleston), and intellectually stimulating conversations. incidentally, up until a few weeks ago, we hadn't been talking much because of school and life and whatnot, but we just now finished a conversation that felt as though we'd never stop talking. she's a great person, you guys. she helps me see different perspectives on things and makes me want to look at them again so i be sure for myself. and she's really nice, and she tells good stories about funny/odd/sometimes sad experiences and maybe that's what you should write about, rachel. you should write about you, because even though you may not think it's worthy of a new york bestselling title, there are still things about you that cannot be replicated into other people's lives. so she wrote me one of those article things that you see about celebrities in those magazines, kind of as a way to show where she thinks i'll be within the next five to ten years. i read it aloud to helayna last sunday and she agrees that this is super accurate and special and i never want to let it go, so. 

without further ado (and an obligatory break into a new paragraph), i give you one of the nicest things someone has given me. 

also here's a selfie because i think it's fitting. (i guess you can say i'm a pinup girl now. my hair is green and i am a self-proclaimed housewife, so there's that.) (also i got a phone, praise.)

At Pizza Hut with Jocelyn Chambers

“Can we meet over pizza?” That’s the first thing Jocelyn Chambers asks me as we’re arranging our rendezvous over the phone. Even though I’m lactose-intolerant and rarely eat pizza, I let her know that yes, we’ll meet over pizza and I’ll probably bring something I can eat. I ask if her if she minds, and she says, “No, not at all.” We agree to meet after her concert at the Civic Center in Portland, Maine and go to the nearest Pizza Hut location. I get myself a ticket to her concert, despite the fact that I rarely attend concerts. But I love symphonies. I witness Jocelyn put on one of the most raw, emotional, and epiphany-producing shows I’ve seen in a long time before I meet her outside. We hug and greet each other; it’s the first time we’ve met in person, but we talk like we’re just old friends catching up. Jocelyn is nearly six feet tall in heels, towering over my five-foot-two stature, and she dresses like 1950s pinup glory. Her hair and makeup are impeccable. She has a soothing, slightly raspy that’s half fairy princess and half film noir siren. “So how about that pizza?” She asks with a breathless smile. We get in my car and I drive her to Pizza Hut.

Jocelyn is nothing short of talented. She’s dabbled not only in film composing, but in writing, photography, blogging, painting, singing, short film directing and poetry. She works hard at everything she does, and it’s paid off; her book The Era of Mixed Feelings, which features contributions from other teenagers describing their experiences as teenagers, has received endless accolades in the book industry. Not only that, but she scored an Oscar nomination for composing the score to the coming-of-age drama A Word Made Flesh, making her the first black woman to earn that honor. “I’m still reeling over it,” she says. “It almost seems unreal. Like it’s just a dream or something.”

Once we get to Pizza Hut, Jocelyn orders a personal pizza that takes nearly forever to come out, as is tradition with pizza hut, and she does not hesitate to dig right in. We sit in silence for a little bit, Jocelyn eating her pizza and me eating a leftover veggie burger that I brought with me, but it doesn’t feel like an awkward silence desperate to be filled. It’s like we have nonverbally communicated that right now, eating comes first and talking will come later. When we’re finished with our meals, I ask her how she’s been lately. “Busy,” she says without skipping a heartbeat. “But it’s a good kind of busy. I’m doing what I love and I couldn’t be happier about that.” One thing’s for sure, she’s keeping herself occupied while anticipating the Academy Awards coming up in a month; she’s been performing concerts at multiple locations around the country, making her debut performance at the Madison Square Garden in two days, updating her Tumblr blog with stunning photography and profound quotes, and documenting her strong outfit/hair/makeup game on Instagram. Even what Jocelyn does in her spare time isn’t done in a mediocre fashion; she’s fully and completely in love with what she does. It’s that full-on passion for everything she does that has earned her an Oscar nomination and a spot on the top of the New York Times Bestseller list. “People have always told me, ‘Jocee you can’t do that, Jocee that’s not possible.’” She says about the people back home in Texas. “But they were wrong. When I show up at the Oscars, I’ll look straight into the camera and smile and wave to the people who put me down. I don’t believe them anymore. At this point in my life, I feel like I can do anything.”

i wish i could tell you how much this means to me.

-kiss kiss kiss, i'm reaching as i sink down into light-

{pea ess: another title via paramore's self-titled deluxe.}

the screening.

original photo

every wednesday at 5pm, i go to a movie screening in the geology building for my RTF class. i usually sit where what i guess the theatre majors call stage right--but really my left, by myself with a frosty or leftover vitamin water or a pint of bluebell. i haven't exactly made a good enough friend who i can sit with consistently. everyone has their own group of people. i'm generally just there.

this week's screening was accompanied by a soft drizzle outside the auditorium doors. most everyone was in sweatpants or those awkward garbage bag things that keep you from getting wet. it was a lot colder than what we were all used to and i guess we didn't know how to handle it. i wore a black cape with grey roses in front and a black dress with my black bag and black umbrella. they say black is supposed to keep the heat in, but it didn't really do anything of the sort. at the very most, i looked decent. and most of the time, we sacrifice warmth for decency.

but i'm not taking a philosophy class, so please ignore the last three or so sentences. also, i'd had my first salted caramel latte that day. it was delicious. the last few sips are the best part.

at this particular screening, we watched sunset blvd, because in class we were covering italian neorealism and coming to the era of film noir. we've watched a lot of classic movies this semester, and i have to say they're nothing like i expected (citizen kane was kind of a downer, but the technology was great) but sunset blvd was so good (albeit dark) that i can successfully say it's one of my favourite movies. maybe the weather or the overall droopiness of the day had something to do with it. either way, i thought it was great.

i feel really bad now, though, because i'm not really here to talk about citizen kane or sunset blvd. or anything like that. i'm here because i think i've found out something very important. and i just so happen to have found that out after the screening of sunset.

i usually leave the auditorium after everyone regroups with their friends to talk about the movie. this week was no different. i walked into the hall, stopping to button my cape and adjust my purse and when i continued towards the door i caught part of a conversation these two girls were having near one of the artifact cases. i know there's something to be said about hearing things in context versus out of context, but i haven't gotten it out of my mind.

so she's like "i'm thinking 'you're sixteen years old! you don't know anything!'" and the other girl is like "ugh, i hate sixteen year olds" and i'm thinking "were you not just that age yourself? how can you say something like that about someone who's likely said the same thing about you?" and i realize this is where the disconnect between adults and adolescents begin. in college, the ideals and responsibilities of adulthood are thrust upon us (more by our peers than our professors), and we're suddenly expected to behave as though high school and everything before it is a distant memory, that this is it: this is where the journey ends--i am an adult now and everything i have waited for has somehow become insignificant. the freshmen are still so... fresh that they retain parts of who they were before they came here but somewhere along the line they lose it. they are subconsciously swallowing the idea that they are only 17 or 18 or 19, they who they are doesn't encompass every age they've been or every year they've been alive. does that make sense to you? maybe the reason why there is such a gap between adults and teens is in order to be accepted into a new society, you have to leave part of yourself behind. and as a freshman (and equally a sophomore), i don't want to do that. as a junior or a senior i don't want to do that. at any age during my life i don't want to be the person that looks down on others because it's not socially acceptable. i keep seeing people post and reblog the following: "be the person you needed when you were younger." how can you be the person you needed when somehow, you forget that person even exists?

i guess i'm saying no matter where you are in your life, whether you've graduated college or graduated kindergarten, remember who you are. 

don't ridicule that person now, don't ridicule them later. we always complain that people don't understand us. don't be the person people complain about.

-kiss kiss kiss, all you gotta do is say-

the honeymoon is over.

i had my first two tests of college today, and you know, they weren't that bad. i'm just really tired, and my weekend is going to be nothing less than hectic. but in a good way. i have a paper to write that i'm not writing to write this. also. i dyed my hair green, and i really like it. i'm really liking who i'm shaping up to be. this didn't make any sense. i'm tired. i need to write my paper. goodnight.