Sister, sister

My parents were smart. They had us 7 years apart which gave Mona her own childhood as the only grandbaby for a long time, and it gave me a big sister, someone else to take care of me. Our personalities both benefitted from this and although we went through a rough patch when someone was a moody high schooler and someone else was a lonely little elementary school chipmunk, we are incredibly close.

When I'm alone and it's really quiet I think about how much I am my actual, full, loud, don't give a shiz self when I'm around her, and of all the things I am grateful for about having Mona as my sister ( her generosity, patience, understanding, etc.), lately I've been most aware of that. And also most aware of how I didn't have that for a good chunk of time and maybe something bottled up inside. I need her, and that's it.

In October we took a road trip up north for the Berkeley Portishead show, and it was really nice to share the city with her, something I didn't have many chances to do before.


Gracias Madre


Trying on Halloween costumes at Bell Jar


Waiting for the N


This sums it up better than any of my words. All Brian Andreas prints hit me inside, instantly. Isn't this sweet and happysad at the same time?