Happily Ever After

The most televised event EVER, and I MISSED it! As much as I love to be on top of things, I just could not get myself to be awake at 4 a.m., partially because I was up until four the night before, but I'll tell you all about that later. Anyways, I didn't really matter because the second I woke up, I googled "kate middleton wedding dress," and from then, it was only a matter of time before I probably knew more details about that wedding than the people who watched it live. I'm shameless (yay for Medill education!).

And yes, this will be a Kate+Will photo orgy. Don't say I didn't warn you.

A few things of note:

+ The official wedding program if you'd like to see it.

+ Photo 7 -- THE LITTLE GIRL

+ The Brits sure love their hats.

+ When did Alexander McQueen go all Grace Kelly on me?!

+ It couldn't have been more perfect. She couldn't have been more perfect.

Congratulations and Best Wishes to Their Royal Highnesses!

(photos via the world)

The Pie Song

Have you guys seen the movie Waitress? It's one of my favorites--not in the Martin Scorsese kind of way, but it's really sweet and surprisingly hilarious. There were many laugh-out-loud moments for me. (Maybe it's cause I wasn't expecting it?) Well, I watched it again cause I felt like it, and I forgot how much this movie makes me want to bake PIES every time I watch it. I don't actually have anything to bake a pie with, so I'll just post these pictures instead (oh, and they have really cute names):

Earl Murders Me Because I'm Having An Affair Pie

Marshmallow Mermaid Pie

I Can't Have No Affair Because It's Wrong And I Don't Want Earl To Kill Me Pie

Falling In Love Pie

A few other places to find recipes:

Lonely Chicago Pie

I Don't Want Earl's Baby Pie

Baby don't you cry,

Gonna make a pie,

Gonna make a pie with a heart in the middle,

Baby don't be blue,

Gonna make for you,

Gonna make a pie with a heart in the middle,

Gonna be a pie from heaven above,

Gonna be filled with strawberry love,

Baby don't you cry,

Gonna make a pie,

Hold you forever in the middle of my heart.

What The Cool Kids Do

MY LIFE IS FINALLY BECOMING NORMAL AGAIN. Well, almost.

And yes, that's a vague quasi-excuse for my negligence.

I won't get into the details of what I've been busy with because it would bore you to tears, but I have a post coming up about post-college worries anyhow, so wait you will with bated breath. (Yes, I'm taking a poetry class and I am most definitely not a poet -- can you tell?) In the meantime, I've been the busy bee collector I always am, building up links and hoarding magazines, etc., and I've been feeling very literary lately --

E.B. White's Writings from The New Yorker 1927-1976

And while I was visiting the Religious Studies Department I found a "FREE BOOKS" bin. It kind of made my day cause I found these jewels:

Andre Dubu's Selected Stories

The Best American Spiritual Writing 2005

The Shack by William P. Young

(A jewel, maybe not so much, but a close friend recommended it to me.)

NY Mag's The Apartment issue -- read this one! And loved every minute of it.

NY Mag: Around the World in 50 Pages

I just found this quarterly which just launched (it's on its second issue), and I love the concept! Complete lack of writing, but hopefully they'll get that sorted cause a culture-based magazine needs good writing.

And I'm currently reading:

Joan Didion's The Year of Magical Thinking

I could not wait to get started on this one so I'm working through it right now. And so far, it's everything I thought it would be and so, so, so much more. Which is what I say every time I read a piece by Didion. I'm telling you...this woman...she...okay I have to stop myself because if I don't, I 'm going to say something heretical, but you get it. She is that good. And this book is just -- UGH. It's grief on paper. And tell me, how in the world is that possible? Love and grief -- the two worldly phenomena that can't be explained, and she's done it all.

Some literary food on the internet:

+ How sweet are these wedding slideshows from NY Mag?

+ I need this. Like, now, immediately, maintenant, jikeum, (how do you say it in Chinese?).

+ I just found out about Denizen Kane. And where are all of these amazing lyrics/short stories?! (Not on the Internet)

Do I sound like a geek yet? Good.

Oh Chicago

My dear friend Jen came to visit this past weekend, and she always introduces me to the most wonderful people! I had the pleasure of spending a few days with my new (ridiculously talented) friends, BK and Jeremy. Sometimes, I feel like talent just aggregates where Jen exists.

Jeremy (artist name, Passion) was nice enough to give me a copy of his EP, Paper Airplane (which all of you should immediately get because it is just--beyond. Really. It's been my ONLY study music for the past couple of days). And my favorite, FAVORITE, song on it is Oh Vienna. It's just--sweet--lip-curling, chest-tingling sweetness; it's lilac and honey and baby powder. (That's what I get when I think 'sweet'. Is that strange?)

And the first time I listened to it I realized something I probably latently knew, but never worded it out to myself. It really isn't about the time or place it all. That's nothing at all. It's about who you're with and not even who you're simply physically with, but who's out there in the inky blackness; that even in the middle of thunder and lightening during a night like tonight, there's someone out there loving you. And though it's forty degrees and thundering, the coldness can't get to you. Whether it's Vienna or California or whether its in the midst of stormy Chicago, you find every place has its own perfection because the love helps you see the world, in all of its beauty, a little more clearly.

(photo via pinterest)

The Difference

You know what it is? Even when I'm doing absolutely nothing, I'd rather be doing nothing with you.

(photo via pinterest)

Perfect Days

It's been a while since I sat down like I am now on my virgin-white sofa on a day like today. (I was too cheap to get a color other than white.) It's beautiful outside. I felt full and fed from church, and I thought company would make today the perfect day. When I couldn't find it, true to my pathetic, self-pitying form, I completely forgot about my fullness and happiness and grew angry instead.

The truth is there have been many things that would've made many perfect days. If I just got that grade, if I just had a job, if I just knew what I was doing, if I had someone I felt free to talk to, if I just had ____. When did God stop being enough?

I've known it for a while now, but writing things down and out is always the hardest for me. It makes things concrete, real, and then I have to deal with that ish. I pushed God off the stage and made myself the center of my universe. Clothes, fun for fun's sake, writing, getting published, accomplishment, fame, recognition -- when I am dead and gone, what are these good for? For my children to remember my name? They will die, too. For this world to know of my delusions of glory? Only to feed their ignorance until it's too late. This world is temporal.

God is more than my conception of "more than enough."
God is my God.
God is good.
You are all that is good.

Two in the Morning

I rarely stay up this late, and I remember I don't do that because I start to look up things like

A Sur la Table Mini Doughnut Pan is not a luxury. It's a necessity.

This is why I am 'Girl in the Afternoon.'

La Parisienne

C'est parfait. Je voudrais etudier le francais a nouveau...

P.S. How do you do accents on blogger?

(photo via Style Essentials)

In Black and White Print

I turned something into the NYT Modern Love contest yesterday. I turned it in at exactly 11:58 p.m. eastern time. The deadline was 11:59 p.m. And unfortunately, my chances aren't lookin' too hot. True, I only found out about the contest two days before the deadline, but I've cranked out personal essays with less time before, ones that I ended up loving. And this was supposed to be an essay on modern love, for crying out loud! I had a whole blog devoted to the topic! I should've been trotting all over that damn park.

I don't even know if I can call it a funk? Because I've had those -- where it's just a really ugly road block, one that's only there to make you take the longest possible detour, to your convenience, of course. But at least you got there. I wrote two completely different essays, settled on a third, and hated all of them. I would read them out loud to Norman (reading out loud is essential for me), and I wouldn't even finish before I said, "Is this boring? This is boring, isn't it? Ohmygod, it's boring and you know me."

I would write them, and yes, there would be moments of pretty prose, but at the end of it, I would just stop and say out loud, "What am I doing?" I had no idea what I was trying to say. What am I trying to say? What's the point? The "so what"?

It's something that's been really bothering me lately. My professor said writers should always have a point of view. It's best to know what you're trying to say before, but you should definitely be somewhere at the end of it. But what if I don't have anything to say at all? What if I'm a creamless cannoli?

I don't expect anything. (That's a lie: I expect the NYT editors to scratch their scalps with their valuable fingers. That's a lie, too. I want this. I want(ed) this badly because for the first time I felt like I really had a shot at it. Maybe I wanted it too much. Is that wrong? To want it too much? April is going to be a long month.) I did it for the sake of the opportunity because that's what I've learned I have to do, and if I'm better because of it, that's all I can ask for. (Okay, yes, another lie. I'm in a fragile state, and I just need some validation that this is what I'm supposed to be doing.) Now, does anyone have any Funk-B-Gone?

(photos via pinterest, vi.sualize.us, a glamorous little side project)