2. I love this new navy moleskin notebook that makes scribbling during meetings much more fun. I've also been keeping my musings about decor, fashion, and ramblings in a personal journal.
3. I hate that I don't
4. I love this new book written by Junot Diaz. On the outside it's one of those books that is about the conquest of pretty faced/big assed women (or not) and a character who is trying to figure out his identity through the women he has dated. But, the parts about Yunior's brother who is dying from cancer had me welling up on the train and in the cafe. This line had me rethinking those final months with Victor, "Was it some atavistic impluse to die alone, out of site?"
5. I hate that I can't listen to Victor's songs without having to rush into the shower with the door and windows closed and fan turned on to smother the wails. A few months ago it felt euphoric, invigorating, and like he was whispering in my ear chants about how to move forward. Now his beats and rhythms are Mohammad Ali type punches to my chest that have me ripping out the Beats by Dre headphones out of my ears.
6. I love this little cafe that Kris and I found in the Back Bay neighborhood in Boston that neither of us can remember the name of. My hope is that my great sense of direction when it comes to getting a caffeine fix and a quiet place to write will get me bakc there next week. Open windows, cute two-person booths, and
7. I hate that I am pretending to enjoy this bitter ass coffee from Starbucks that takes too much sugar to sweeten. It makes my fingers move quickly across the keyboard, but my tongue feels like it's growing a shit garden out of each tastebud. Gross.
8. I love this. Heeled sneakers have won over my little tomboy heart. Dope hoodies may apply for occupation in my closet, as well.
9. I hate that I can't fit into a size 16 pair cranberry colored jeans from Eloquii and have to return them for a bigger size when I = have a perfect pair of boots and top to wear it with. I stand in my mirror with it clasping onto my waist and zipper running away to my hips. They're tight. Bad tight. Bad meaning bad, not bad meaning good. Just sell the shit in stores, okay?
10. I hate that people ask me, "Did you get a perm, " when they see my natural curly hair. You really think this Cape Verdean got a curly perm? Oh. Okay.
11. I love this little baby my sister in law is going to birth in three weeks. So much love. So much love that it almost makes me not care about all of those little things that I hate.