even though its not christmas, we write wish lists.
we shop and dream, and price and compare. some items are desired gifts, meant to be received, while others we will most likely gift upon ourselves. either way, the wish lists paint a picture of our focus. the material checklist, if fulfilled entirely, would represent the [timestamped] ideal self, accessorized and outfitted, prepared and ready for the world.
the word to highlight here is timestamped. most often wish lists are never fully satisfied before a new one is made. we grow and change, and trends do as well. some items may transfer over, but the rest are usually laughed at and forgotten.
when i really pause to think about it, there’s not much else to be had. now i aim to create a list that lasts, but i realize that such a wish list will never be complete. (nor would i like it to be.) i’d like the list to keep growing, to keep defining, and i’d like to see & strive for things that will stick with me. i’d like to discover and make mine the things i’ll regret never seeing / touching / feeling.
so yes, maybe i’m now talking about a much bigger list with (less shoes and) more experiences, but truthfully, there was a point in the last few months that the lists did change in exactly that way. and i realized that if i stare at the wish list too long, it becomes outdated even faster. time passes and nothing is accomplished. we can’t wait for our lists to be entirely fulfilled in order to be ready and prepared for the world. we have to make wish lists that send us out into the world.
i like my current list a lot. i’m loving where my numbered wants seem to send me wandering.
Long before I officially began my search for the good ones here, bff R and I were counting the perfect 10 moments. While roommates for a year, we had quite a few adventures, rated 1-10. As much as we can worry and become “paralyzed by choice” I know we both appreciate the little things, and how we find laughter in and around them all. Those good little moments, for our purposes, the good ones, are more than enough to make an incredible day.
R caught a flight down to Los Angeles to spend a few days - an assortment of good, great, and amazing - she hardly recognized the town. Our past adventures were in the very beginning stages of search. Now in my new apartment in my new neighborhood, the good finds were already bookmarked.
Dinner at Masa. That famous chocolate chip cannoli. Cheap wine at El Prado, soundtrack on records. Bienvenidos. Brunch at Cliff’s Edge, where the toast keeps coming. Art * Craft * Vintage. New friends. New dresses. Southern California weather. Nap with the air con going. Trader Joes and dark chocolate covered blueberries.
Next-door neighbor bar. Cheap drinks. Photo booth. Denny’s trickery. Darkness in the cemetery. Bottle Rocket and almost-spooning. Planet Earth and mango salsa. Buddhist blessing. Purple sunrise. The most amazing 6am performance we’ve ever seen. Bon Iver love. “What might have been lost” sing-a-long. Zzz..tea. Magical parking spot. Abbot Kinney. Parson Red Heads. Marked5 food truck. Hey Alex. Fly!
Bon Iver’s sunrise show was wonderfully surreal. It feels like a dream, but better. I can’t listen to For Emma, Forever Ago without longing for that beautiful hazy morning. The performance was perfection, as much as one can be at such an early hour. And the moment itself, a top of the top 10 list moment.
We were indirectly asked, which comes first, talent or passion? Pondering over the chicken-and-the-egg-like question throughout dinner, we gave up after a few drinks. Days later, I was driving [just after sunset] and realized it wasn’t that complicated. It’s passion. Most definitely passion. Motivation does not exist without passion. Curiosity. Creativity. Practice. Passion must fuel it all. [Unless you’re driven by something entirely different (ahem, money), and art is not your interest.]
Last night I went to see The September Issue. While the documentary is about the fashion industry & a magazine that sells expensive clothes - within the look at a business [with investors, and sales groups] - there is an art. In the film, we meet Grace Coddington, fashion editor & stylist for Vogue, who visualizes multiple page spreads for the magazine every month, many of which never get published. So I got to thinking about instinct - the ability that people have to imagine and create - in this case it was a fashion photo - which stems from an instinct from inside of their very own person. Grace is just one example of the many truly talented people there are in the world making tiny decisions about every detail to create one masterpiece.
So I think instinct must come before passion or talent. And the beautiful thing is, we’ve all got our own. It’s who we are and who we want to be. It works in amazing and magical ways, and creates something special, and different, and I think that’s what we end up admiring in each other.
Go see The September Issue if it is showing in your city. It got my mind buzzing in so many ways.
In reply to a friend who writes of close quarters, I must say thank you.
I sit in this office every day, typing in destinations and viewing streets through the screen. I daydream about flying and with no sleep, gifting more smiles and supportive squeezes. Most often the daydreams remain just that, and I admire (the energy, and) the ability to chase it. Then I read about the fears and the struggles, the unexpected (materialistic) needs serving as substitutions of the real love and comfort, substitutions of home, and realize they are learning a new way of living: Away from loved ones, away from everything already known. They must rely on suitcases, and each other, like a circle of skydivers with a low number of parachutes. It is a thrill.
After spending an excessive amount of hours in that tour van, on the road, I understand the words now. The ones that talk of cramped spaces and interrupted sleep. They have sent themselves to the streets to experience it all in a different way. And they do, and we do. My pillow never moves more than a few inches. His will travel the world.
It’s completely chaotic, but I must say, entirely worth it. Speeding mile after mile to get home, 20 hours without much time to stretch, there was a hazy longing for the road once we unlocked the front door with our own keychain. I want to go back there.
Within the boxes of my months, certain numbers have a [city] match. Few of those have a boarding pass, and the rest are just reminders.
It started with a less than three dimensional smile and a shoulder shrug of intrigue. Same as the clatter of wood against a small tom drum gradually builds to a tune, where I’m at now grew from only the slightest chance into a rumble of energy and love. One inspiring another, I call it a tree of love because I can’t imagine any of it without every piece of what it is.
I met a boy, but I’ve met five as well. Their commitment to each other wasn’t a secret for long, and as soon as I realized what I’d found I only fell deeper. Each with their own role, personally & musically, the branches of their talents just keep growing more and more near to my heart.
They are (each and together) teaching me so much about it all… Passion, talent, love, life; how to laugh while everyone is taking it all too seriously. At a Hollywood hotel pool where everyone is just too cool… they jumped in, and played chicken.
Off on tour again, I miss each of them, those branches, and the whole tree; all of them together, recreating these lessons through a 45 minute expression of everything they’ve got. Each night, in each city, connecting us all.
I miss him. Of course I miss him. Our nest. My love. My heart. But he’ll be back soon enough. Every moment until then, I just feel. I feel the wind, I feel the sun, I feel inspired. I feel excited. I imagine that I’m spinning. Like a 6 year old in a party dress.
I wouldn’t trade it for a second of anything else.