Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag.She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.
She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.
Buy her another cup of coffee.
Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.
It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.
She has to give it a shot somehow.
Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.
Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.
Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilightseries.
If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.
You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.
You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.
Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.
Or better yet, date a girl who writes.” —Rosemary Urquico (via kblitz)
They’re having coffee at Starbucks for a date on Valentine’s Day
because they’re fourteen
and that’s what you do at fourteen.
she wears a long-sleeved tee shirt and too much eyeliner
she’s mildly not-skinny
he wears a short sleeved striped polo
and he is awkwardly tall for his muscle mass
she is giggling and telling him how that bitch at school
just doesn’t know what she’s talking about,
because what she doesn’t know is that…
he is thinking about how maybe if they go to Starbucks enough
sometime, even tonight
he might get to kiss her
and sometime, after a cinnamon dolce latte or a caramel macchiato
he might get to hold her around the waist
and sometime, after a frappuccino and a green tea latte
he might get to touch her, closer, breath deeper, feel like that espresso machine…
and I realize they’re not fourteen
probably at least sixteen, seventeen
as old as I was when I fell in love for the first time
and I’ve tried so many drinks
that I assume the worst
about a coffee date
on Valentine’s Day.” —http://oppositeharmony.wordpress.com/
She says she’s secretly nice.
I think she’s secretly human
adequately and entirely human,
more and less than most,
just disguising it well.
she’s a singer
and she’ll always be
a wide-eyed wild-sighing partial drama queen
a coffee-sipping attitude dripping
confident long-haired obscene being
but she’s got connections and a family web
of places and shelves where books belong
and heritage will rest on her shoulders
without effort or contemplation.
she’ll be the manifestation living
of all I want to be, but she can’t notice,
can’t know, she has all she needs
and she’s more beautiful than most
because she knows the difference
between enjoying life and temporary make-believe
but she is a master of both.” —http://oppositeharmony.wordpress.com/
I want to go out and leave my name.
I want breakfast in bed.
I want you in my bed.
I want to be more interesting.
I want to smile more.
I want to be nicer.
I want people to respect me.
I want to explore.
I want to quit posting how I spent my days online. My day means nothing. What really matters is what ideas I glean off the day, stilling rays from the sun.
I want to draw better.
I want to sew more.
I want to be more expressive.
I want to write better poetry.
I want to be better. I just haven’t gotten there yet.
I will be.