0% interest
I randomly came across a set of lyrics that I absolutely love, from a little known Jason Mraz song called "0% Interest"
"Those tiny fragments of perfection
they please me in a time unchanged
when it's not the same beginning
or a long awaited end."
something about that song is incredibly powerful to me. I feel like I may be a lyrics whore, so I just kind of get off to any song with really awesome word play. any song you have to listen to forty times before you get what they're trying to say. Micah and I talked about Citizen Cope on Thursday night before we went to sleep (I was finally able to pick the music we go to sleep to), and how a lot of his music is just sort of subversive. it's conversations like that which remind me why i like him so goddamn much.
Due to Joe's consistent whining about wanting to hear about my birthday, and my total lack of recording of that beyond amazing weekend, I want to talk about it for a bit.
Flying into Boston was like flying home. It was highly emotional, triggered immediately by the sight of the Logan Airport, and it's place on a jut of land in the bay. Taking the cab back to Mario's, I saw street after street that I recognized, I think I saw the little inn where Ryan and I stayed when he came to visit me. I jumped out of the cab and straight into Mario and Charlotte's arms, and immediately started crying. Thursday night we went to Sally's, where nothing had changed, where she was just as drunk and self-absorbed as she always has been, but damn it was good to see her. It was good to take shots with Ellen and it was good to see Julia, scrubbed out, heading to Greg's, because they're still together 2 years later.
Friday I took the T by myself to meet Mario after class. I sat on the T, staring out into grey Boston, at the brownstones, as we wound down Comm Ave., listening to "Sunday" by Sia, and felt so completely complete, that it hurt. I walked through my old building - CAS (college of arts and sciences, which is what I sometimes mistakenly call CLA), I saw old friends, I felt at home. I saw Bekah Handler, which freaked me out, seeing someone from home in my far-from-home Home. Then I went back with Sally to her house, where we slumped onto her couch, ordered a pizza, and watched Clueless, and it was like I'd never left. We referred to each other as only the most deragatory names, and I felt loved. That night we went to the cocktail party, where I saw every girl I had ever loved in Boston, all in one place, all together, dressed up and drunk, feeling classy and trashy at the same time - as we always were. Mario and I steadied each other during out walk home, holding each other up and laughing at everything and nothing, not making coherent sentences, the endings of which were always 'i'm so glad you're/i'm here" or "i love you so much".
Saturday was lazy, and saturday was perfect. I got to go to Newbury, I got to drink at a classy restaurant on Newbury that I'd loved when I lived there, I bought clothes and was reminded of how perfect Mario is as a shopping partner. I saw everyone I loved that night, filling in any gaps left over from the night before. Bantering with Liam about our deep love for each other, being snarky and faux-racist with Andrew towards Karna, and then with Karna towards Andrew, chatting about small-town America with Seth, it all felt so right. It all felt so perfect. I wanted to cry and laugh and dance and scream all at the same time. At midnight they sang to me, lit a candle on a hostess cupcake, and hugged me. Micah called me, and I don't think I could explain accurately how happy I was. How totally perfect my life in that exact moment was.
Despite knowing how short my time was there, Sunday came too fast. Brunch was bittersweet and rushed, hugs and goodbyes were said, and Mario, Nick, and Amanda took me to the airport. They walked me to the security check, and when Mario hugged me I burst into tears. Not shallow tears, not superficial tears, but bittersweet, hearbroken tears. Of a year I will never get back, a life that I destroyed for myself, and of people that I miss every single day I'm away from them.
I landed in Minneapolis, angry and tired. Unable to be cheerful for my own birthday.
Jodi called me, and Jay called me, inviting me to the reception for a Vegas wedding 2 of our coworkers had, at Brit's Pub. So I went there, and it felt like God's way of saying, "i know you miss boston, i know that's your home, but you have made not only a life here, but a pretty great one." I drank with everyone I worked with, my manager bought me a shot, my bartenders gave me drinks, my friends laughed with me. It was pretty damn fantastic.
And the next day? Claire and Emma made me a cake. And it was perfect.
So that was my birthday. It was amazing, it wasn't incredibly extravagant, it was perfect. I didn't have a party bus, or rent out a club, or anything ridiculous. But I got to see everyone I love, from Minneapolis and Boston. And that is what I wanted, what I needed.
"Those tiny fragments of perfection
they please me in a time unchanged
when it's not the same beginning
or a long awaited end."
something about that song is incredibly powerful to me. I feel like I may be a lyrics whore, so I just kind of get off to any song with really awesome word play. any song you have to listen to forty times before you get what they're trying to say. Micah and I talked about Citizen Cope on Thursday night before we went to sleep (I was finally able to pick the music we go to sleep to), and how a lot of his music is just sort of subversive. it's conversations like that which remind me why i like him so goddamn much.
Due to Joe's consistent whining about wanting to hear about my birthday, and my total lack of recording of that beyond amazing weekend, I want to talk about it for a bit.
Flying into Boston was like flying home. It was highly emotional, triggered immediately by the sight of the Logan Airport, and it's place on a jut of land in the bay. Taking the cab back to Mario's, I saw street after street that I recognized, I think I saw the little inn where Ryan and I stayed when he came to visit me. I jumped out of the cab and straight into Mario and Charlotte's arms, and immediately started crying. Thursday night we went to Sally's, where nothing had changed, where she was just as drunk and self-absorbed as she always has been, but damn it was good to see her. It was good to take shots with Ellen and it was good to see Julia, scrubbed out, heading to Greg's, because they're still together 2 years later.
Friday I took the T by myself to meet Mario after class. I sat on the T, staring out into grey Boston, at the brownstones, as we wound down Comm Ave., listening to "Sunday" by Sia, and felt so completely complete, that it hurt. I walked through my old building - CAS (college of arts and sciences, which is what I sometimes mistakenly call CLA), I saw old friends, I felt at home. I saw Bekah Handler, which freaked me out, seeing someone from home in my far-from-home Home. Then I went back with Sally to her house, where we slumped onto her couch, ordered a pizza, and watched Clueless, and it was like I'd never left. We referred to each other as only the most deragatory names, and I felt loved. That night we went to the cocktail party, where I saw every girl I had ever loved in Boston, all in one place, all together, dressed up and drunk, feeling classy and trashy at the same time - as we always were. Mario and I steadied each other during out walk home, holding each other up and laughing at everything and nothing, not making coherent sentences, the endings of which were always 'i'm so glad you're/i'm here" or "i love you so much".
Saturday was lazy, and saturday was perfect. I got to go to Newbury, I got to drink at a classy restaurant on Newbury that I'd loved when I lived there, I bought clothes and was reminded of how perfect Mario is as a shopping partner. I saw everyone I loved that night, filling in any gaps left over from the night before. Bantering with Liam about our deep love for each other, being snarky and faux-racist with Andrew towards Karna, and then with Karna towards Andrew, chatting about small-town America with Seth, it all felt so right. It all felt so perfect. I wanted to cry and laugh and dance and scream all at the same time. At midnight they sang to me, lit a candle on a hostess cupcake, and hugged me. Micah called me, and I don't think I could explain accurately how happy I was. How totally perfect my life in that exact moment was.
Despite knowing how short my time was there, Sunday came too fast. Brunch was bittersweet and rushed, hugs and goodbyes were said, and Mario, Nick, and Amanda took me to the airport. They walked me to the security check, and when Mario hugged me I burst into tears. Not shallow tears, not superficial tears, but bittersweet, hearbroken tears. Of a year I will never get back, a life that I destroyed for myself, and of people that I miss every single day I'm away from them.
I landed in Minneapolis, angry and tired. Unable to be cheerful for my own birthday.
Jodi called me, and Jay called me, inviting me to the reception for a Vegas wedding 2 of our coworkers had, at Brit's Pub. So I went there, and it felt like God's way of saying, "i know you miss boston, i know that's your home, but you have made not only a life here, but a pretty great one." I drank with everyone I worked with, my manager bought me a shot, my bartenders gave me drinks, my friends laughed with me. It was pretty damn fantastic.
And the next day? Claire and Emma made me a cake. And it was perfect.
So that was my birthday. It was amazing, it wasn't incredibly extravagant, it was perfect. I didn't have a party bus, or rent out a club, or anything ridiculous. But I got to see everyone I love, from Minneapolis and Boston. And that is what I wanted, what I needed.