Everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.— Sylvia Plath (via psliterary)
Lena Dunham, the creator and star of the HBO series Girls, has a new collection of personal essays called Not That Kind of Girl. She joined Fresh Air to talk about oversharing, feminism, OCD, and why she thinks most depictions of sex in movies are destructive.
Posting this again because it was a great interview. I listened to it twice yesterday!
What’s the world for you if you can’t make it up the way you want it?— Toni Morrison, Jazz (via vintageanchorbooks)
Taylor Swift Convos Part II: Director’s Cut
I’ve been debating on whether or not to share this part of Taylor’s and my conversation, because it was so personal and emotional.
But I think I will, because why not? It was real. It happened. If I’ve learned anything from Taylor, it’s that in honesty, we all find a common bond.
So taylorswift and I are talking about Tumblr and about something else she showed us during the evening (I’m not allowed to say what, just know that everyone was crying) and I start to share something I sent her on Tumblr but I catch myself.
"I’m sorry, people must come up to you and tell you the worst thing that’s ever happened to them before they tell you their favorite song or something,” I say.
She throws her head back and laughs. “No, no, it’s okay. I tell you guys all the worst things that happen to me in my albums!”
"So we’re even?"
She nods. “You can tell me.”
I don’t know that I should because this is so sad. It’s actually the saddest. “So there was this guy (there is always “this guy,” right?) who was my first kiss and all this other crazy dating stuff happened and we became friends even after everything fell out. Best friends. For years. We talked every day, gave each other relationship advice. It was good. The best.” (Had you been at the secret session you would know that what I’m saying is very relevant to the evening and to things Taylor was talking to us about.)
"Anyway, he was a marine and he passed away in February," I say it quick so I won’t shatter and immediately wonder if I should’ve said it at all. I wonder if this is too much. If I am ruining something good. I’m still the girl who says too much, it’s my arch-nemesis, all the talking I do. I mean, I’m talking to Taylor Swift and somehow we’ve ended up here? HERE? Are you KIDDING me?! And yet, this is full circle for me, this is so terribly, terribly relevant to my life in 2014.
Taylor takes a step back like I’ve punched her. She grabs her stomach and shakes her head. “No, no, no.”
"And all I could do most days was lock myself in my room with the Red album on repeat, because it was the only thing that made me feel like I was understood. You know, like, on an emotional level? It made me feel okay.” What I’m trying to tell her is it made me feel feelings again. If you’ve ever experienced an acute form of grief, you’ll know you eventually go numb and you can’t feel things. And when that happens nothing matters and when nothing matters, depression happens. Music saved me from that. Her music saved me from that.
She runs her hands through her hair. “Oh my gosh, come here,” she says and grabs me in another hug. This one is different than the first one she gave me though. This one is like a bear hug, like a hug you give to a friend when you haven’t seen them in forever. She holds on to me very, very tightly. “I’m so sorry. You’re incredible.” She let’s go. “You’re so brave to stand here and tell me that.”
But that isn’t the point. I’m not brave. At best, I’m kind of an idiot.
"The fact that you can keep it together and talk about it, is amazing."
"You get used to people who know a little bit about the situation, asking you about it in very public places. And after falling apart the first couple times, you learn how to compose yourself.”
"Yeah, I get that. You disengage from your emotions a little bit," she nods. She knows exactly what I’m talking about.
“Thank you for writing your songs and being honest. Thank you for putting your art out into the world.” How do you thank someone for making the art that helped you survive for the last seven months? How do I thank her for releasing “Come Back, Be Here” as a bonus track — which I listened to on repeat for five hours on the way to David’s parents’ house in June? How do I thank her for the lyric, “but loving him was red?” Or “All Too Well” or “Sad Beautiful Tragic?”
It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well. (All Too Well)
Time won’t fly, it’s like I’m paralyzed by it. I’d like to be my old self again. But I’m still trying to find it. (All Too Well)
Distance, timing, breakdown, fighting. Silence, the train runs off its tracks. (Sad, Beautiful, Tragic)
Kiss me, try to fix it, would you just try to listen?! Hang up. Give up. For the life of us we can’t get back. (Sad, Beautiful, Tragic)
This is when the feeling sinks in, I don’t want to miss you like this. Come back, be here. (Come Back, Be Here)
Tonight I’m gonna dance like you were in this room, but I don’t want to dance if I’m not dancing with you. (Holy Ground)
Darling, it was good, never looking down and right there where we stood was holy ground. (Holy Ground)
In dreams, I meet you in warm conversations. (Sad, Beautiful, Tragic)
And I see your face in every crowd. (Holy Ground)
And I break down cuz it’s not fair that you’re not around. (Come Back, Be Here)
And I never saw you coming and I’ll never be the same. (State of Grace)
So you were never a saint and I loved in shades of wrong, we learn to live with the pain, mosaic broken hearts–but this love is brave and wild. (State of Grace)
You should’ve been here, should’ve burst through the door with that ‘baby I’m right here’ smile, and it would’ve felt like, a million little shining stars had just aligned and I would’ve been so…happy. (The Moment I Knew)
People ask me how I’ve been, as I comb back through my memory, how you said you’d be here. You said you’d be here. (The Moment I Knew)
What do you say when tears are streaming down your face, in front of everyone you know? And what do you do when the one who means the most to you is the one who didn’t show? (The Moment I Knew)
It’s a weird thing to thank someone for the soundtrack to your grief. It is. But without it, I would’ve been sitting alone in my room in silence, burrowing further and further into the rabbit hole I’d been kicked into. The week before this, I was driving around in my car at 9PM on Tuesday singing “Red” at the top of my lungs, tears in my eyes, “Remembering him comes in flashbacks and echoes, tell myself it’s time now gotta let go, but moving on from him is impossible when I still see it all in my head in burning red. Loving him was red." And I thought to myself, "I know this song isn’t about death, but it’s about loss and I just wish I could tell her how much I needed this."
Five days later I had my chance and I did. And honestly, in my heart of hearts, I kind of wonder if David helped make this happen. Is that silly? That’s silly. But I wonder it anyway.
Taylor and I talk a little bit more and she’s finally like, “Gosh I don’t even know what to do for this picture right now!”
But now I’m smiling again, because I’m standing next to and hugging the woman who created the music that’s been my sanctuary. I am still okay. I am still breathing. In fact, if I’m honest, I’m having the time of my life. Not only have I laughed and danced and freaked out over make up with her, but I’ve also been as honest with her as she has been with me. And what else could you ask for? What else is there to say?
“I think we should just be happy,” I say.
Her face lights up. “Yes!” she grins. “That’s excellent.”
me when doing assignments
Me writing a draft…
Things around you are constantly going to change. Nothing is permanent. The only permanent thing we have is ourselves, so make sure you love and accept yourself.— taylorswift to me about growing up at her 1989 Secret Session in Nashville (via bringonall-thepretenders)