Greek Tragedy (pt. I)

(music)

Winter.

She placed a steaming mug in front of him on the chipped mosaic table. He could see her hips, just at table height and just below the bottom of her large jacket. As she moved to slide into her seat across from him, her scarf drifted away from her body, offering a silvery black contrast to the white atmosphere.

Stop.

He looked up, taking advantage of the frozen moment. Just behind her, outside of the awning, the snow hung suspended and the people braving the weather were stopped mid-step, mid-word. The steam curling out of his mug was frozen, cloudy glass.

Thinking back in this pocket of non-time, he could not quite remember the steps he had taken to reach this point. How exactly had he begun a conversation between the two of them, or had he not started the conversation at all?

Photo Credit: videoblocks.com

He could remember they had met in a pocket of Indian Summer, he could remember what song had been playing, “It’s Never Over (Oh Orpheus)” — Arcade Fire, he could remember what she had been wearing, a pair of cuffed denim shorts and a burnt-orange t-shirt, a messy ponytail and a pair of well worn sneakers. He couldn’t remember, however, most of the rest of it.

He started at her feet. She was wearing heavy-soled boots, that despite their size did nothing to make her feet seem clownish. Her socks barely peaked from the stiff tops, a light grey knit line-break between the black boots and the black jeans, undoubtedly worn over another layer. He could see her blue-black sweater peeking out below the hem of her jacket, flaring out a little bit.

He continued upward, taking in the puffy jacket that dwarfed her, her hand – frozen midway to her pocket. He paused just a second longer to take in the fall of the jacket, the stolen movement of her arms, the way that her fingers curled around her own mug, the uneven crescent moons of her fingernails.

How had he gotten here? How had he gotten to the point where he could just stare at her and that would be enough? How had he moved from point A to point B? From seeing her serve coffee in a small hole-in-the-wall cafe, to not wanting to miss a single minutiae?

He looked over the folds of her scarf, piled high on her neck, he watched the shadows fall rightly. He followed the fuzz of the scarf upwards to her neck where a flush had crept up toward her face. He followed her jawline from right to left. Her lips —

Start.

She slid into her seat and her scarf fell back into place against her torso. The snow fell, again. All the frozen mid-steps became the movement of the next. He jumped a bit, a shiver riding up his spine. The milky glass above his mug had once again become nothing but vapor. She brought her mug to her lips and stared out from the awning. Now he could see her breathing, there was a small furrow between her brows.

Photo Credit: shutterstock.com

With time now moving he could feel it, a warmth spreading from his heart outwards, a soft tingle from his eyes was working its way down to his toes, while sparkishly light fingers wound around his shoulder blades and rib cage, he would stop time again just to enjoy the sight of her, to will her to understand everything he felt.

“You are everything,” he whispered, testing how it flew from him into the corporeal world.

“Hmmm?” She hummed.

His words, like ducklings pushed from a nest, fell into the mugs between them, unheard and on their own, paddling away from him. She turned to look at him. He was stunned. Her attention was like a blow to his chest. Her eyes, it was all in her eyes and the small grin that dimpled the left side of her face.

How did he get here? How could so much of him rely on her? He looked down at his mug, at the dark coffee there, the light steam curling out of it. Like coffee and steam: warm, rich, and velvety, that was how they were. Coffee and steam, energy and complement, she was warmth in the cold.

He looked up again, “I love you.”

His words this time flew gently across the mosaic table to land in her mug as she brought it up to drink again, to hopefully bring the flush back to her face.

∆∆∆

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25 things i’m looking forward to

Once again, it’s 10:30 on a Sunday night and I’m out of ideas, so here are 25 things I’m looking forward to (in the near future).

  1. getting my driver’s license
  2. living in Spain
  3. summer
  4. going to college
  5. becoming fluent in Spanish
  6. traveling around the world
  7. meeting new people
  8. falling in love
  9. getting more ear piercings
  10. having a different president
  11. changing my hair (well, maybe… i’m very attached to it)
  12. going to concerts

    image via Pinterest.co
  13. people becoming more environmentally responsible
  14. summer, again
  15. getting a tattoo (a very, very small one)
  16. joining the Peace Corps
  17. going to concerts
  18. being done with AP exams
  19. going on hikes with friends
  20. having free time
  21. reading books during said free time
  22. new music
  23. getting better at playing guitar
  24. learning how to sew
  25. having a career that i’m happy with & is positively impacting the world

Drake’s on his Worst Behavior

Although I could make an entire blog post (honestly, a series of blog posts) on the perfection that is Rihanna, today I’m talking about something she said in her interview with Vogue.

In her interview, she recounted a very famous speech that Drake gave while introducing her as MTV’s Video Vanguard recipient in 2016.

“Waiting through that speech was probably the most uncomfortable part. I don’t like too many compliments; I don’t like to be put on blast,” she said to Vogue writer Chioma Nnadi.

In other words, Drake made her pretty uncomfortable. This very public expression of unrequited feelings made by one celebrity to another is manipulative and harmful. For one, Drake chose to do his manifestation of his feelings in a moment meant to honor Rihanna’s decade-long achievements in the music industry, but, instead, he took away all the sentiment in that speech. 

Photo Credit: naradanews.com

In the wake of Rihanna’s belated response, people have come to Drake’s defense saying he was simply trying to get out his feelings. If he truly had Ri’s intentions at heart, he could’ve expressed his infatuation with her after they left the stage or virtually any other private setting. So, no, it wasn’t a spur of the moment reaction, but a cheap way of revealing his crush on Rihanna in hopes that she won’t immediately reject him.

All in all, I simply think Drake could’ve handled the situation a lot better. Now, the 2016 VMA’s will go down as “that time Drake said he loved Rihanna on TV.” It will never be a celebration of Rihanna’s boundless talent, (those killer performances, though!) which is what she definitely deserved.