This is our weird reality. But I’m no stranger to weird realities—a secretly hopeless romantic with commitment issues; a constant daydreamer with the tendency to overthink; a lover of silence with the nervous habit of saying too much, then analyzing every word; an optimistic wannabe always expecting the worst; a girl who hates drama, but… Continue reading Our Weird Reality
I miss albums. Not just my once-massive CD collection, but records. I miss their size. I miss holding a new acquisition, studying its cover, wondering who the other characters are (Actors? Friends of the artist? I’m thinking Kenny Rogers’ The Gambler, Billy Joel’s Turnstiles…storytelling albums). I miss staring at that image as the songs played… Continue reading The Tactile Telling
Science about age and brains and sleep patterns aside, it's always been my habit to go to bed with the sun, rise with the sun. Even in college, when left to my own devices, it was such a joy to turn everything off at 7pm, in bed and sleeping by 8. I don't know about… Continue reading The forecast you fix
I'm not sure when we'll finally understand that we are nature--messy and muddy, divine and colorful, useful and invasive, sometimes a great blessing, and sometimes a pain in the ass. But what we don't seem to understand is that ecosystems balance themselves, given enough time and space (and for nature, there will always be time… Continue reading Established
It's about coming back to yourself--that place that was once so comfortable, you'd forgotten it ever existed.
So often the answer is simple, I think. Which is also, really, what makes it so terribly difficult to find.
I like secrets and I'm good at keeping them. I don't like lies, but then, I'm a terrible liar. I'm also none too adept at hiding my feelings, at least for very long. But I do like holding things back, harmless things, just for myself. Perhaps it's a habit leftover from a childhood of telling myself stories… Continue reading Who we are, where we’ve been
The last day of July. I will never complain about weather (at least, I hope that's the truth); it's a waste of time, of energy, and a poor use of our profound capacity for observation. But I will tell you this: out of all the months in all the year, July ranks twelfth in my… Continue reading Slipstream
Amy Holt 