We Stay Awake

life after midnight

an old friend

A note: I may regret writing this. That possibility is imminent, and completely dependent on how this is taken from here, but often what I write here ends up being taken out of context and, really, that’s just the kind of way it is with words. I can mend and mold until my fingers fall off, but in the end, the reader is the one making the context. So, if you are reading this, the context is meant to be one of contrition. I want that to be made obvious.


I am lucky enough to have maintained a close set of friendships that lasted from youth to this stage of pre-adulthood I’m currently in. Sometimes these relationships were rocky, and I fucked up the transition of child to teen to adult more times than I want to admit, but I have been forgiven by them and we remain close today.

Toward the end of high school, we all got swept up into the drama and gossip of teenage relationships, and would tell each other that we were bound together by nothing more than proximity: small town, crowded halls and allies that had been there since grade school. Still, we held on.

With one of those girls, I would sing along to Ingrid Michaelson songs as she played the piano, cry next to her in my basement cuddled in blankets while P.S. I Love You played in the background, write notes to her of Wicked and Rent song quotes, full of doodled flowers and hearts and a bolded “FIYEROooo” for emphasis, passed whispering in a corner of Biology class. Morris would try and separate us frequently, and never succeeded in gaining more than a few minutes of reprieve. 

We don’t talk anymore, not at all, and I hate it. I don’t know the exact moment that we started to resent each other, but it was thick and hard and resistant to the fake and obvious attempts we through at each other to circumvent it. It was ignored for a Very Long Time, culminating in even more hate and, this time, no contact whatsoever. It is a bad and rough absence. We are utterly at odds.

I have missed her for a long time. Even though we have our differences, and they very well may prove to be irreconcilable, I spent my childhood with her learning and loving her, and I know that she knows that part of me better than, perhaps, anyone else. While I had other friends I considered to be a part of my heart, I never felt with anyone the way I allowed myself to feel around her. Her heart is so large, worn on her sleeve with no apologies and she taught me how to open myself up to that kind of vulnerability and emotion, too. She was formative in that way, meeting me in a park in Zeeland in the seventh grade and leading me away from the rough and dark I had been drifting towards (an emo phase) to something much sweeter.

I listen to the songs we would sing together and think about what I would say if I could send a collection of them to her, something that means I’m sorry and I miss you and I wish it wasn’t this way. Matt Nathanson, Ingrid, Sara Bareilles, The Pogues, Joni Mitchell, A Fine Frenzy: the melodies of our friendship, our awakening.

And now, years later, this is mine. A small one, but one that, nonetheless, has become increasingly obvious as I fight the urge to call her whenever I am reminded of our friendship. I am reaching back to what she taught me of vulnerability and emotion and opening up here, and, if I gain the courage, someday soon to her. The old friend I know would tell me to go for it, reminding me that, “there’s only us, there’s only this, forget regret, or life is yours to miss.” I think I’m going to listen to it.

easy like sunday morning

I had a great day of trail-walking and bloody mary’s and football. I said I would enjoy this time off and dammit, I am.

Here, look:

IMG_2446   

IMG_2474IMG_2480

 

Now I’m watching AFV and curating a list of costumes that my boyfriend might actually like.

So far, I’ve got: tooth fairy and dentist, prince and princess, or Goose and Maverick. I reallllllllly wanna DIY a massive tulle skirt, so I’m pushing toward something that involves a tiara. Anybody else have ideas? I’ve been eyeing a catwoman bodysuit that kind of  has my name on it, which might beat out all of the other contenders. Meow.

I also made Broma Bakery’s caramel apples this morning, which blew everyone’s mind. You can find her recipe here and pictures of the beauties below.

IMG_2426 IMG_2420

 

Can you tell I’m completely obsessed with her blog?

That’s all for today. Just an update, some pictures, and a really great recipe. Enjoy.

 

saturday nights

I just took a shower so hot it scalded my skin, steam is still leaking out of the bathtub and curling at the edges of my mirror. I covered myself with shea butter, swallowed my handful of supplements and vitamins sitting next to my bed and curled up next to the computer screen: another Saturday night.

This isn’t all for lack of options. I could’ve road-tripped to East Lansing to see a friend, to Chicago to see another. I have a call scheduled with my other half in 22 minutes that I’ve been waiting for all week and I made a batch of to-die-for peanut butter cookies that has the whole house smelling like the inside of a JIF container.

Continue reading

a new home

Welcome back to the new and improved WeStayAwake. It’s still undergoing some renovation: friends are working on a new logo and header, I’m playing with fonts and color schemes and an overall theme of the blog as I transition from college to a gap year to, eventually, law school. It’s going to be good. Stick with it a while longer while I get it there.

In the meantime, I intend to use this space more frequently. I told a friend (a new friend!) yesterday that revamping this blog meant that I would actually have to write more, and how scary that seemed to me after being away for so long. She was so encouraging, telling me that it’s an opportunity, and an exciting one at that.

Speaking of my new friend, this would all be impossible if not for the help of Sarah Fennel, author and baker-extraordinaire at Broma Bakery. She spent two and a half hours with me at Starbucks going over widgets and plugins while I fumbled around WordPress stupidly. She is a saint. She even welcomed me into her home (her beautiful home) and sent me off with a homemade caramel apple. Like, real caramel. Not the Werther’s stuff boiled down and slathered on,  like I would’ve done.

With the makeover, I’ve been working on a new vision for the site. One that includes more pictures, more content that isn’t just personal. I guess you could say that I’m transitioning from “personal blog” to “lifestyle blog,” but that sounds a tad bit pretentious for my liking and, really, I’m living with my parents and applying to schools, so I’m not sure if anyone would want to mimic this lifestyle anyway. But I have years worth of beauty tricks that I’ve amassed from blogs and magazines, new time for crafts and pinning and reading and the like, and my usual posts on life and love and school and work and whatever I want to rant on that day in the voice that some of you have been following for these past four years.

Come back soon, I promise it’s going to be good.

-Erin

 

PS: You can still follow me on tumblr! If you don’t have an account there but would still like to receive updates, the box on the right will give send you emails when I update.

Under construction

WeStayAwake is undergoing a makeover! It’s a total mess right now as I switch from my home of four years (tumblr) over to wordpress. In the meantime, archives at the bottom of the page and any suggestions you have can be sent to my email address in the contact box above!

manhatten:

Was looking through my activity on tumblr and saw that you liked my audio post and legit freaked out! I just wanted to tell you that I’ve been following your blog since I was a freshman in high school and now I’m a senior applying to university of Michigan! Anyways just wanted to say that you genuinely inspire me and I’m sending you love and light from New Jersey!

Well this is the sweetest thing ever. It looks like you’ve been with me since the beginning, and I am so grateful for that. Good luck applying, Michigan will give you some of the best 4 years of your life.

xo

@manhatten asked:

Was looking through my activity on tumblr and saw that you liked my audio post and legit freaked out! I just wanted to tell you that I’ve been following your blog since I was a freshman in high school and now I’m a senior applying to university of Michigan! Anyways just wanted to say that you genuinely inspire me and I’m sending you love and light from New Jersey!

 

Well this is the sweetest thing ever. It looks like you’ve been with me since the beginning, and I am so grateful for that. Good luck applying, Michigan will give you some of the best 4 years of your life.

xo

An unjustified fear is never an excuse to take someone’s life.

Wayne County Circuit Court Judge Dana Hathaway (x)

I have never been more proud of a judge as I am of this one. Her words perfectly represent the prejudice and stereotypes that continue to plague the black community and steal away our children.

Please share.

(via stilettoroyalty)

homecoming

Last night, a friend of Sean’s asked me which memory from my four years at Michigan had been my favorite. A graduate of four months, I blanched. No answer came to mind as I fluttered, snapshot style, through memories amassed since 2010. “It’s so cliche,” I told him, “but I can’t give you just one.”

Ultimately, I settled for the memory of breaking into the Big House with my eleven roommates. We all had stayed awake until 2 am, texting each other encouragement so as to not lose our nerve. We left on foot, crossing the mile and a half walk to the stadium in various states of sobriety and dress (I had opted for an all-black ensemble with war paint spread across my cheeks). We climbed over turnstiles or squeezed between poles to gain entry and then sprinted for the field, trading hushed whispers and hugs on the 50-yard line of the largest stadium in America. We were invincible in that moment— a mix of days-later graduates and upcoming seniors, drunk on the feel of the field— our field— beneath our sneakers. Continue reading

Thought Catalog gave me some love by publishing my piece from a year ago (you saw it here first, folks) on heartache. 

A reminder to love, to break, to heal, and to love again. 

« Older posts

© 2014 We Stay Awake

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑