i had a bomb birthday weekend that began with a massage from a sprightly 70-year-old woman who liked to talk about her sex life, followed-up by a day of fun with my mom, and ended at a party in a vancouver mansion with like 50 improvers— and myself. i also treated myself to some beautiful kick-ass towels (see picture) from value village that i will turn into scarves. i am 25 now. this is the first birthday that actually feels different. it feels like, fuck this is it. which is a good motivator to get on with the good things in life. things like following that little thing called bliss. to keep on with e.e. cummings's battle of being nobody-but-yourself—in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else. and more than anything, to stay true to my motto of living life as if i had cotton candy in my left hand and a bukowski poem in my right.

i also received a text at 1:20 in the morning that said happy birthday! i love you soo much and i'm pretty sure you know! you're my bestest forever. xoxoxo. it pretty much washed away my loneliness because i realized that as long as i have my core people by my side, i will never be alone, even if none of them are in bellingham. a friend told me that getting married is like saying fuck you to everyone else. i just want to marry my core people for richer and poorer, through sickness and health, through shitty jobs and confusing relationships, and all of our naysayers can go to hell.

the air has turned itself inside out and is making itself known. it's fall! it's mitten and scarf season! it's pumpkin spice latte season! eeeeeee!