dear natasha,

i read your poem 'monarch butterflies use the earth's magnetic field' and i just want you to know

it's a great poem and all but what do you mean the magnetic field is preparing to flip

what exactly does that mean

is this like a real thing or a thing you made up

because i don't have a back-up system

how will i get home

it is 4am and i am really worried about this

i could look it up on the internet but i'd rather have you explain it to me

please write back soon

your friend

emily


ps natasha

it's 4am and i'm reading your poetry on the internet

sometimes the world is wonderful

why is everything so weird

i wrote this thing in october 2010 about the landmarks that were approaching in my life. it was called 'why is everything so weird'. instead i posted this. reading this right now makes me feel weird.

Late November, early December

Around this time I started working at American Eagle, which was supposed to be a Christmas job, and yet I'm still here even though I live far away from where I work. I also don't know how I feel about this. In the past 2 months American Eagle has been the only thing keeping me sane because it's the only thing in my life that's remained familiar. I genuinely like everyone I work with and I'm writing it here even though I don't think any of them read this, which is totally fine. I don't know if I'm good at my job.

If I didn't work at American Eagle I probably would never have talked to any of the people I work with, and I don't think they would have talked to me. And that's okay, because we're different, kind of, and I would never have applied if I hadn't already been friends with someone who worked there. I'm glad I get to work with people I wouldn't have otherwise met.

I've been thinking about my job lately, and people keep asking me why I don't get transferred since I live in the city now, and I can't really explain why except that it's become kind of comforting. I've even (sort of) come to enjoy being the janitor on Sunday mornings. I don't know. They should pay me more to clean the light fixtures, I probably have 5 pounds of dust in my lungs or something.

++

Everything is so weird. I guess this is called "growing". Why do things have to mean something? None of these dates are really important, except maybe my birthday which is important to society and possibly my grandmother. I don't know what life will be like this time next year, I don't want to know, don't tell me. I wouldn't believe you anyway.

i think i remember having a dream around this time about someone in a white cotton shirt. i think my life is the same but different.

Dianna Agron's Hipster/Perfect Tumblr

I think Dianna Agron, star of Glee, pretty blonde flower dress girl, is secretly a hipster.

And I secretly love her for it. (well not so secret anymore).

First, I have to admit that I love Glee. I was about 1 and half seasons late to the party, but whatever. I'm all caught up and a little bit disappointed I'm missing the season finale because I'll be in China.

Second, I have to preface this with the statement that I don't think Dianna Agron is the pretentious douchey too-cool-for-you hipster type. She just likes hipster-y things like film cameras, underground music, the iphone hipstamatic app, and post-modern art like drawings of smiley faces pasted onto a photo of real people.

from dianna agron's tumblr

Ladies and gentlemen and all the genders in between and outside, I present to you:

Dianna Agron's tumblr.

I like Dianna's tumblr because she seem to like a lot of the things I like. Also she makes playlists a lot, which is my favourite, and I've youtubed all the songs and have thus discovered a bunch of new bands/songs because of her. She quotes people like Rainer Maria Rilke, whom Riese loves, and I love what Riese loves.

She doesn't post pictures of other celebrities or shit cut out of Cosmo. She knows the difference between "it's" and "its". There are some behind the scenes pictures of the cast members of Glee, which comes off as special and cute, rather than "look at me I'm famous". She seems excited and maybe surprised that people are paying attention to what she's doing. I don't know. She seems to genuinely want to share with people what she's working on/found/likes.

Here are some songs I really like that I heard from Dianna's tumblr:

+ The Dodos - Fools

+ The Walkmen - In The New Year

+ Radical Face - Welcome Home

+ Atlas Sound - Walkabout

+ Deer Tick - Baltimore Blues No 1

felldowntherabbithole dot tumblr dot com

come away with me and we'll kiss on a mountaintop

sometimes you are sitting on the third floor of an apartment in a rocking chair watching the snow fall listening to norah jones, and sometimes you are walking home at 5:30 with your collar up high thinking about fresh bread.

sometimes you can only hear out of one ear and it's hard to concentrate.

"run, don't walk," laneia said.

sometimes it feels nice not to think about anything at all.

The Best Gifts Are The Simple Pleasures

A box of good tea...

Ankle socks...

A mix tape...

(via autostraddle)

A blanket...

Paper letters in the mail...

And a warm fuzzy hug from someone you love.

absence poem #1

you said once that your heart was making a lot of noise and you thought that i might hear it. well, i wish i could hear it now. i wish i could hear your heartnoise and i wish you could wrap it in an envelope and send it in the mail and i could open it and use it as a way to tell the time, but not clocktime, but counttime that tells me when your heart noises faster and when it noises slower, a steady noise, until i hear an excited "yesyesyes" that tells me you're coming home.

i wish we were on an air mattress in new york city with the thump thump thump and gentle touch and my own heartnoise humming like happy. i wish your heartnoise would give you away now. i wish i could feel your heart through your fingertips. i wish your heartnoise was something i could keep in a jar but it's lost now anyhow.

i wish i could press my ear to your chestdoor, and heartnoise calming and full, beat, beat, beat, i wish i could hear it now, a "yes yes yes" and maybe soon some sleep.

This Train Is A Long Goodbye

Have you ever been on a train and dreamed about being on a train? Well, I have. I woke up at 4 this morning to catch a train that would take me to a place where I could get on another train. I fall asleep on the second train, and that's where I have my dream.

I was asleep on the train and then I woke up. Someone I knew was sitting next to me. She wanted me to read to her aloud. She couldn't read the word 'schedule'. I tried to read aloud but every time I did a few words would come out and then my mouth would hang open and I wouldn't be able to close it. I could only make sounds in the back of my throat. I knew that I was capable of reading aloud, only my mouth wouldn't move. I fell back asleep.

When I woke up there were a few little girls boarding the train. They must've been 9 or 10 years old. One of them sat next to me. I dozed off. I woke up and one of their friends was getting on at a new stop. She had a striped blue and white shirt. My clothes were all out of my bag. How did that happen? The girls seemed to be running away from something. They huddled together and spoke to each other as if they had a plan. I started picking my clothes up off the floor and putting them back in my bag. I had to reach over the girl next to me. Sorry, I said. I went back to sleep.

I wake up in real life with a little bit of drool on the side of my mouth and a slight fear that if I try to speak my mouth will hang open and never close again. There is a person beside me in a striped shirt. It has only been an hour and a half since I fell asleep. I'm supposed to be asleep for the next 10 hours.

Have you ever said goodbye to someone at a train station? Have you ever sat in your seat and looked out the window and the person you care about is standing there waiting for the train to leave? I have, and all I want to do is jump out the window and leave the train behind. But the train starts to move and my girl starts to cry. I want to ask someone when I will see her next but I'm afraid to know. I lay down across two seats and let small tears crawl down my cheek. Hey, how're you doing… the ticketman comes to collect my ticket. His voice trails off as he sees me crying and he avoids eye contact. I fumble with my ticket. Sorry, I say. He says nothing. I go to sleep. I want to sleep until the boa constrictor in my chest unravels and slinks away.

When I wake up again on the second train the person in a striped shirt is gone. I am unsure if they were ever there or if it was something I dreamed into life. There is no evidence of their being there. I want to go back to sleep but instead I write. The shake shake of the train makes me feel like vomiting when I stare at my screen. I write until I feel fully nauseous. I want to be asleep. I write 'I want to be asleep'.

I want to be asleep.

I have a brown paper bag full of snacks for the train, but I'm not hungry. I pick at the food on top; chips, some candy, and a peanut butter bar. It is only till much later that I check the bottom of the bag for more food. There's a napkin underneath with words written on it and I feel my throat close up and my eyes burn again. There is a flood behind my eyelids and if I keep them closed it will not leak out. To anybody else, I suppose, the napkin is just a napkin. But to me it's a little bit of home, or a little bit of a place where there's warmth and comfort. It's a part of a safety blanket. I keep it at the bottom of the bag.

The train is very cold. I wear your shirt and your sweater and your hat. I want to feel like I am wearing you, but it just feels like I am wearing your sweater.

++

In relation to the earth and the universe, we are just two tiny blips on a very big map. There are many people who have lived before us, and many who will live after. There are many people in our time who we will never meet, who will never know us separately or together, will never be touched or changed by us, will never know our names. We will likely be lost in the history books, but we have found each other. We exist to love and to be loved, to know that our own stories are enough.

Boy Scout Loves Mountaineer

I don't watch a lot of tv, but every once in a while I get a push that starts me watching a show. For example, back when Carly used to do Televisionary Tuesdays on Autostraddle, I did screencaps for her. One of the shows she was recapping was How I Met Your Mother. Unfortunately I was screencapping the season 4 finale and had no idea what was going on, only that it was really funny. So then I spent the next two weeks watching every episode ever of HIMYM until I was caught up. Then, this holiday break, I started watching The Office. Literally all I did was sit at home and watch it. After that it was 30 Rock which I also ate up until school forced me to read a book. I'd like to add that I haven't seen the end of any of these shows most recent seasons.

Currently I am totally caught up in a really old show: Alias. Alias is different from the previous three shows I mentioned for a number of reasons, namely, it's not a sitcom. Alias is funny on purpose about 2% of the time and funny by accident about 37.72829% of the time. The rest of the time it's either terrifying or completely ridiculous. Because the truth about Alias is this: it is terrible/AWESOME.

I started watching Alias in Philadelphia with Laura's friend and have been kinda hooked ever since.

Alias actually scares me. Maybe it's because Laura and I watch it at 1am or maybe it's because I'm a big baby, but there hasn't been an episode where I either close my eyes or block the computer screen because I AM SCARED. When I was 11 Buffy the Vampire Slayer used to terrify me, until I started watching it when I was older (and years after it had finished) and it was hilarious. I am even older now and I think Alias is way scary!/suspenseful.

The thing about Alias, though, is that while there are scary moments, mostly it's just campy. There are only 2 kinds of music on Alias: the heavy bass, techno-y pump up music they play when Sydney is on a mission, and the lesbian music they play when things are sad (which is often). Once they played Coldplay. Alias is that kind of show where, when the bad guys shoot, they miss, and when the good guys shoot, they don't. It's also a show full of convenient coincidences and really good timing by the CIA. Like oh, obviously when Sydney's knee is about to get blown off she is saved. Also Sydney knows every language. Ever. Once Laura saw a wire holding up a plane.

Have I mentioned Jennifer Garner yet? Jennifer Garner plays Sydney Bristow. She has nice skin. Sometimes Sydney has to use disguises. Sometimes she looks like this:

Sometimes she looks like this:

Um, if that's not incentive to start watching, I don't know what is.

++

I decided to interview my partner-in-viewing Laura about her feelings w/r/t Alias.

Emily: What is your favourite Sydney Bristow disguise?

Laura: This one, she's got a Spanish fan, and red hair and a red dress with long sleeves and slits at the sides, and super cleavage and she's wearing a black bra underneath. And her eyes are really really made up.

Emily: Is that it?

Laura: Yeah. She swings on a rope and can knock somebody out.

Emily: What about that one where she walks out of the pool and a man follows her?

Laura: Nope. That's not it.

Emily: That's not it? Not when she's in a bathing suit?

Laura: Nope.

Emily: I like when she's blonde.

Laura: I like her whenever she has red hair, and I don't even like red hair. I also like the one where she chewed gum and had blonde hair and pearls.

Emily: What is the campiest thing about Alias?

Laura: What about Alias is not campy?

Emily: I thought that you might say the wire holding the plane.

Laura: Ohmygod, the wire holding the plane. No, that's not campy, that's just ridiculous. Probably the fact that... I like it when things are named really obvious things. Like that alliance between them was called "The Alliance". Also the episode names are kinda dorky.

Emily: Does Alias scare you?

Laura: On occasion because I don't like it when they get into weird supernatural shit and I'm alone in my house at night.

Emily: Weird supernatural shit like what?

Laura: Like frying bodies.

Emily: Oh yeah, that was really creepy. That one just made me sad.

Laura: It's gross.

Emily: What do you think about the music in Alias?

Laura: It's a very strange combination of techno/jam/rave and and Indigo Girls concert with mixes of Coldplay thrown in for good measure.

Emily: I feel like I'm just asking you to confirm everything I've written in my post.

Laura: So maybe you shouldn't interview me.

Emily: Probably not. Do you have anything to say about Alias? What is your favourite thing about Alias?

Laura: I like that she kicks ass and takes names. And even though she's in love with a man she still fights with him when it comes to mission stuff, she doesn't just agree with him. I guess what I'm saying is --

Emily: I guess what you're saying is "I'm a feminist!"

Laura: -- Alias has a feminist agenda.

Emily: What do you think is Sloane's master plan?

Laura: Jesus, I don't even know. I think he's probably trying to bring Elvis back from the dead.

Emily: Have you eaten dinner yet?

Laura: I didn't eat dinner today.

Emily: Aw, are you hungry?

Laura: Well, here's what I've eaten today: 3 slices of pizza (but they were small slices), a cupcake, a little bowl of pasta, a granola bar, an apple, a cinnamon roll, some cheese. The end.

[we talk about food, Laura gets an email]

Laura: I have a question for you if you don't have any.

Emily: Okay.

Laura: Do you want to watch an episode of Alias?

I've Been Distracted

Explosions in the Sky - Your Hand in Mine

she made stars out of her hands. i mean, she cut paper into little pieces and used her fingers to bend the paper into star shapes. i thought if i threw them at the sky they would float up there all on their own, but i wanted to keep them for myself. i know it's selfish, but given the chance, wouldn't anyone want to hold a piece of the sky in their hand? maybe the stars in the sky are really burning balls of paper, shared by people less selfish than me. maybe i just wanted to hold a piece of her in my hand.

paper star girl used to walk down the street a lot in the summer. she had jean shorts and converse (who doesn't?) and she jingled when she moved: it was bangles on her wrists and keys in her pocket (house keys, car keys, keys to closets, hearts, hidden places) and noises in her chest. she met people on the street and she liked to talk to them. she talked to the man with dreadlocks and a white t-shirt. she talked to the girl sitting behind a table selling hand made bracelets. paper star girl did not buy a bracelet but she gave the girl a cookie from her lunch (she had leftover pasta for lunch and two cookies). she talked to a boy with sandy brown hair and a pretty smile and he was nice to her. he had a blue t-shirt and she gave him a paper star.

all at once paper star girl gave everything away, yet maintained an air of mystery. it seemed to everyone who met her that there was something even better behind her smile, if only they could get to it. but they couldn't.

she turned dresses into skirts and she stitched holes together. i wanted to crawl into her bed, into pink and colours, and swamps and swallowed by blankets like oceans and silly putty. she was smarter than me, already i could tell by the way she moved her wrists and shoulders, the way she bounced on all the edges of her feet. i could tell by the way the ink came out of her pen when she carved letters onto paper: "i just want to reach over..."

the books i read made it sound easy, but my hands seemed to weigh more than all those pages i'd ever read put together. i couldn't lift a needle.

at night paper star girl spoke alone in her room.

i wanted paper star girl to make me stars out of paper. i wanted paper star girl to take care of me. i wanted paper star girl to stitch me together. i wanted paper star girl to wrap me up inside of her. i wanted to cry on paper star girl. was i afraid my tears would ruin paper star girl? see, did paper star girl make paper stars or was paper star girl herself a star made out of paper? and what if i ripped paper star girl, or if i cried and my tears touched her and she didn't rip but merely came apart in a mushy lump like kleenex under water?

i was paper and we set ourselves on fire and burned up on the way to the atmosphere, and fell right down again, and lay there in the gutter, ashy, burned up stars; me with my heavy hands, and the real paper star girl, with the jingles from her bracelets and keys and noises in her heart, with a love for people and cookies and making things with her hands. she had a knack for turning lives around.

i'll only ever be a middle distance runner

cold air makes your lungs expand. cold air clears your nose. running in the cold is easier because your lungs are open. i ran home one day in the middle of winter from the bus stop. it was a 45 minute - 1hr run and i didn't stop once. i was surprised at my endurance. i felt like i hadn't moved in months but magically i could still run for an hour. it was probably because it was freezing outside and if i stopped i would die. my ankles were blue when i got home. i crawled into bed and wore 3 sweaters and under armour and a hat and a jacket. it was a stupid idea, running home. i just didn't want to wake up my dad.

it's easier to run in the cold. the cold invites me to run. i ran home tonight, but only a short distance. i took a short cut through a patch of grass and it reminded me of the summer, when i walked that short cut to work every day. contrast night and day. day night. night. a part of me wanted to stand there and look at the stars. i took a picture of the moon with a disposable camera. i don't think the picture will turn out as anything.

i would post a map of the distance i originally ran, but i don't want people to know where i live.

The Life and Death of a Mouse: Based on a True Story

a mouse comes out of a hole and scuttles along the wall.

it passes over wires and hugs the space between the couch and the wall.

it smells food in a backpack.

it leaves the room and moves onto the next.

it tries to blend into the floor.

the mouse scurries across the floor,

onto the tile

in the kitchen where P is making breakfast.

he turns around

and screams like a little girl.

the mouse runs under the stove.

A traps the mouse under the stove

using cardboard and wires.

she sprays bug spray under the stove.

later, the mouse is found dead under the stove.

it is still under the stove.

Don't Forget a Million Miles For Me, Safe and Another Day Has Passed by Me

"I went to B&H and got some film. Worked on autostraddle stuff with Riese and X. We smoked a joint and then went to meet Brooke, Carly, and Robin for dinner where I got drunk. Laura met us halfway through. We slept in Riese's living room and cuddled and talked and it was nice just to listen to people breathing."

- journal, August 14 2009

The room was dark, but not completely. The moonlight came through the cracks in the curtains and lit up little pathways on the floor. I remembered the first night I had stayed there, the night before. I slept on the couch. There were dark red candles on the table, at about eye-level. I thought about blowing them out because I could still see the flame when I closed my eyes but I decided not to. It added a cozy warmth to the room. For that first night I was alone with my thoughts and feeling little fits of happiness in my stomach. I was content and warm and felt like I belonged. There was satisfaction in knowing that the me from 7 months ago would never have predicted this. The fan in the window hummed quietly.

The second night was different. We slept on a mattress on the floor. The fan tried its best but the air was just sticky and hot. We pulled close to each other anyway and whispered breathy secrets. It was liberating. I felt like I was in another world, and maybe I was. I associate the feeling with New York but it could have been anywhere as long as the people were there. As long as I could lie on the floor and feel peace.

I spent the week in a daze. I seemed to be drunk all the time. I tried to get the seat next to the air conditioner. I tried to count how much money I had left. I tried to take pictures. I tried to remember every detail, every corner of every room, every street sign, every cloud in the sky. I couldn't. I only remember feeling as happy as I had ever been in my life. Now when I'm alone I think of the dark red candles. I think of Laura's navy blue shirt. I think of the mattress on the floor and the moon just outside the window and the steady breathing of the two people beside me who promised me without words that they would always be my friends.

++

June 26th, 2009. The road was foggy and empty. The yellow lines stretched on. Katrina was driving, looking for a place we never found. We listened to Tegan and Sara and it was surreal. We listened to the Yellowknife version of City Girl and we listened to the Spinner version of Nineteen and the Melbourne version of Want to be Bad. We listened to every Tegan and Sara song we could and we drove and drove and drove.

It was perfect, really. We met through a mutual love of Tegan and Sara, see. What seemed like a hundred years before, Katrina had been the girl who stole the screenname I wanted. Then she was the girl I stayed up late talking to. Then she was the girl I tried to write songs with over the internet. Then I was in DC in February and she was the girl who went from 2-D to 3-D and there was really no stopping it now. Suddenly she was in Montreal, in my room, watching the series finale of The L Word with me. It was before I knew Riese but after I had sent her that first email and I guess the forces were already at work because in four months we would be in Rockland talking about autostraddle. Riese said people usually like her better before they meet her, but I don't think that's true. I like her so much more.

The point is that four months after Katrina slept in my bed I was sleeping in her bed and driving in her car and on the eve of meeting Riese for the first time. I remember sitting in the bleachers at Katrina's high school -- the sky filled with stars, the air crisp but warm, and feeling tiny and large at the same time. The feeling would last until I took a cab to Penn Station and repeated those words to myself as the morning train took me home -- New York is big and small. My heart is big and I am small. There is enough room in my heart for everyone and everyone and other people and I will keep you [you] there because I need you [you] with me all the time.

++

I came back in August not really knowing why but feeling like I had to. I didn't know what I wanted. Maybe it was just a piece of that feeling back -- I don't even know what the feeling was or where it went -- but I wanted to recreate it.

It was so much better than the first time. I felt braver when I went home. I felt fuller, more complete. Now it's like I carry [their] hearts around but instead of feeling weighed down I feel light. I put one step in front of the other and hold this secret in my chest, this wonderful, wonderful secret, the secret everybody knows but not as well as us, no, not as well as me -- I could try and tell you but I'm not sure you'd understand: these people are more human than humans. They're more fantastical than unicorns. They're prettier than snow, they're smarter than smart things, they're worth more than their weight in gold.

They're changing the world, one heart at a time.

++

"X and Lola came over. I was passing out at 2:30 but I didn't want to fall asleep. Went to bed at 4 AM anyway. Also we came up with conspiracy facts about Gaga."

- journal, August 17 2009

At 4 AM I finally obeyed my tired eyes. I never wanted to sleep, never wanted to go home. There were three fans humming in the corners and not enough plugs for our computers. Where was the moon? I left my heart in Riese's living room.

Things I Hate Spending Money On & Other Lists

Things I Hate Spending Money On

1. public transport

2. tampons

Rules of Life

1. Don't be too drunk.

2. Don't cry.

3. It's going to be fine.

4. never try to write somebody else's poetry

6PM Walking Home From School Songs

1. RE: Stacks - Bon Iver

2. The Blower's Daughter - Damien Rice

3. Here I Dreamt I Was An Architect - The Decemberists

4. Twilight - Elliott Smith

5. Sunset Soon Forgotten - Iron & Wine

6. Lost Coastlines - Okkervil River

4AM Walking Home From the Bus

Stop Drunk Songs

1. RE: Stacks - Bon Iver

2. Lua - Bright Eyes

3. Bird Stealing Bread - Iron & Wine

4. On My Way Back Home Again - Jim Ward

5. Adventures in Solitude - The New Pornographers

The Only Consistent Things In My Life

1. the stuffed animals on my bed

2. paper

6AM Getting Ready for School Songs

1. Northshore - Tegan and Sara

2. Thieves and Their Hands - Rachael Cantu

3. This Charming Man - The Smiths

4. Bad Romance - Lady Gaga

5. Greater Omaha - Desaparecidos

Those Stupid Songs That Make Me Sad

1. Left and Leaving - The Weakerthans

2. Back In Your Head (demo) - Tegan and Sara

3. City Girl (yellowknife version) - Tegan and Sara

4. Tonight - Stars

5. Angel - Sarah McLachlan

6. A Better Son/Daughter - Rilo K

iley

7. Vera - Pink Floyd

8. Upward Over the Mountain - Iron & Wine

9. Company Calls Epilogue - Death Cab For Cutie

10. Saturday As Usual - Bright Eyes

Reasons Why I Think You Should Call Me

1. multi-talented

2. ability to empathize

3. i'm actually an okay person

4. i can slip into a semi-comatose state while standing on a bus

Reasons Why I Think You Won't Call Me

1. you're not paying attention

2. i say strange things

Favorite Places I've Traveled To

1. San Francisco

2. New York City

3. Stockholm

4. some place in the French countryside

5. #smallearth

To-Do

1. write essays

2. read books

3. find love or a substitute of some kind

Things Love Is

1. a disease

2. the cure

3. the best sensation hiding in the lion's mane

4. blind

5. a smoke raised with the fumes of sighs

6. a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes

7. a sea nourished with lovers' tears

8. a madness most discreet

9. a choking gall and a preserving sweet

10. all you need

(first picture via autostraddle)

(second picture via cole rise)

Sometimes I Write Stories Because It's More Fun Than Facing Reality

Once there was a girl who sat at the bottom of a tree reading a book. She had short brown hair with blonde in it. It might have been blonde with brown in it. It's possible that this girl is someone you know. It's possible that you know this story because this might have happened to your planet.

It could have been smallearth. It could have been China, if China was its own planet.

The day the girl sat under a tree the planet began to blow away. Imagine Cinnamon Toast Crunch. It was kind of like that. People wore goggles to protect their eyes but soon it was useless, like people wearing masks to ward off the swine flu. Yeah, the swine flu got everyone there too.

The earth swirled and fell away and the planet got smaller and smaller. People fell off and disappeared, they just disappeared into nothingness and we don't know where they went. Do you ever get confused about space because it's so huge? What exactly is it? Where is cyberspace? Is that where you go when you die?

The girl remained at the bottom of the tree reading her book. Chaos ensued around her. The earth was steadily shrinking. Bits of it were falling away at an alarming rate. She kept reading. Go on, ask what she was reading. It was a book called "Across the Universe" by The Beatles an anonymous author. You can look it up but you won't find the book she was reading. She was reading a non-existant book.

The earth was being shaved off, as if God was filing his planet nails. Everything just fucking blew away, just gone, just like that. Soon there was only a tree attached to a clump of dirt and a girl reading a non-existant book on it. She finished reading and stepped off the planet.

What happens now? Everything I love is gone.

This Post is Only About #smallearth

Firstly, let me go get some ice cream.

Secondly, as stated in the title, this post is about #smallearth. The definition for #smallearth can be found here, but I will copy and paste it here because you're probably too lazy to click on that link [fyi you should anyway because the next post has pictures of tacky postcards from the philippines and who doesn't want to see that, right].

#smallearth (n) – 1. conceptually, a small-scale model of planet Earth. Although the exact dimensions of #smallearth have never been determined, it is commonly accepted that the planet is small enough that such nonsense as 12-hour time differences simply cannot exist, resulting in a cohesive society of #smallearthlings.

2. a community that is so small, that it is entirely feasible for all or most of its members to somehow come in contact with each other, regardless of actual physical location; a significantly less lame way of saying “small world, eh?,” a community where an unspoken set of rules/tendencies exist.

++

#smallearth was created in the middle of the night (for me) while Katrina was on the other side of the world eating lunch, because that's the only way it could have been invented. That's how #smallearth works. #smallearth is the feeling you get when something far away affects you at home ("home". you know. where the heart is). #smallearth is when far away things feel close.

#smallearth is a concept so I don't really think it has physical dimensions. It's as small or as big as you let it and I think it exists because Katrina and I brought it into existence [sidenote: I also think we bring our actual earth into existence by thinking about it and if everyone on the planet stopped (truly) believing in earth it would cease to exist]. That being said, it's smaller than planet earth. Or it's bigger but the people have really long legs so you can cross oceans in two steps, whatever you choose.

#smallearth is a feeling so there can be any number of people on #smallearth at one time and although it would be logical that the ratio of douchebags to awesome people on actual earth would carry over, I hereby declare that there are no douchebags on #smallearth. As one half of the creators of #smallearth I have the power to do this.

#smallearth makes me feel less lonely. 'Cause sometimes I think our planet is just really huge and it bums me out. Then I think that compared to the universe, our planet is a speck of dust and then I feel really tiny and useless and sad.

Like this:

#smallearth makes me feel like this: