2 years of marriage but there’s only 1 you @attawalpa. I can’t believe I get to share a bed someone who giggles in his sleep (not in a horror movie way, in a joy way) and wakes up ready to slay (also not in a horror movie way, in a “werk bitch” way.) You’re everything I’m not//you’re everything to me ♾️
2 years of marriage but there’s only 1 you @attawalpa. I can’t believe I get to share a bed someone who giggles in his sleep (not in a horror movie way, in a joy way) and wakes up ready to slay (also not in a horror movie way, in a “werk bitch” way.) You’re everything I’m not//you’re everything to me ♾️
2 years of marriage but there’s only 1 you @attawalpa. I can’t believe I get to share a bed someone who giggles in his sleep (not in a horror movie way, in a joy way) and wakes up ready to slay (also not in a horror movie way, in a “werk bitch” way.) You’re everything I’m not//you’re everything to me ♾️
2 years of marriage but there’s only 1 you @attawalpa. I can’t believe I get to share a bed someone who giggles in his sleep (not in a horror movie way, in a joy way) and wakes up ready to slay (also not in a horror movie way, in a “werk bitch” way.) You’re everything I’m not//you’re everything to me ♾️
2 years of marriage but there’s only 1 you @attawalpa. I can’t believe I get to share a bed someone who giggles in his sleep (not in a horror movie way, in a joy way) and wakes up ready to slay (also not in a horror movie way, in a “werk bitch” way.) You’re everything I’m not//you’re everything to me ♾️
Ingrid, From the moment you were placed in my arms, trembling and bumpy and roughly the size of a honeydew melon, I knew that I belonged to you. A lot of life had to happen for us to locate each other on this vast earth, but you came along right in time- during some of the loneliest and most confusing moments, you have been my reason to strap on a smile and meet the world (or to burrow in bed- I remain convinced you have totally understood the entire arc of Bachelor in Paradise.) We are both an acquired taste, but our imperfections fit together as snugly as the two of us on a long car ride. When you itch, I itch. When you snore, I snore.
Happy 5th birthday (or is it 5000th) to the lumpiest troll in the history of lumpy trolls. @attawalpa and I love you so much it aches and we will always put ointment on the tips of your ears. Thank you to @apurposefulrescue for giving me the only cuddles that matter from my truest friend. It’s a cliche for a reason: a rescue rescues you!
I got lost so you could find me.
Love infinity,
Mumma
Ingrid, From the moment you were placed in my arms, trembling and bumpy and roughly the size of a honeydew melon, I knew that I belonged to you. A lot of life had to happen for us to locate each other on this vast earth, but you came along right in time- during some of the loneliest and most confusing moments, you have been my reason to strap on a smile and meet the world (or to burrow in bed- I remain convinced you have totally understood the entire arc of Bachelor in Paradise.) We are both an acquired taste, but our imperfections fit together as snugly as the two of us on a long car ride. When you itch, I itch. When you snore, I snore.
Happy 5th birthday (or is it 5000th) to the lumpiest troll in the history of lumpy trolls. @attawalpa and I love you so much it aches and we will always put ointment on the tips of your ears. Thank you to @apurposefulrescue for giving me the only cuddles that matter from my truest friend. It’s a cliche for a reason: a rescue rescues you!
I got lost so you could find me.
Love infinity,
Mumma
Ingrid, From the moment you were placed in my arms, trembling and bumpy and roughly the size of a honeydew melon, I knew that I belonged to you. A lot of life had to happen for us to locate each other on this vast earth, but you came along right in time- during some of the loneliest and most confusing moments, you have been my reason to strap on a smile and meet the world (or to burrow in bed- I remain convinced you have totally understood the entire arc of Bachelor in Paradise.) We are both an acquired taste, but our imperfections fit together as snugly as the two of us on a long car ride. When you itch, I itch. When you snore, I snore.
Happy 5th birthday (or is it 5000th) to the lumpiest troll in the history of lumpy trolls. @attawalpa and I love you so much it aches and we will always put ointment on the tips of your ears. Thank you to @apurposefulrescue for giving me the only cuddles that matter from my truest friend. It’s a cliche for a reason: a rescue rescues you!
I got lost so you could find me.
Love infinity,
Mumma
Ingrid, From the moment you were placed in my arms, trembling and bumpy and roughly the size of a honeydew melon, I knew that I belonged to you. A lot of life had to happen for us to locate each other on this vast earth, but you came along right in time- during some of the loneliest and most confusing moments, you have been my reason to strap on a smile and meet the world (or to burrow in bed- I remain convinced you have totally understood the entire arc of Bachelor in Paradise.) We are both an acquired taste, but our imperfections fit together as snugly as the two of us on a long car ride. When you itch, I itch. When you snore, I snore.
Happy 5th birthday (or is it 5000th) to the lumpiest troll in the history of lumpy trolls. @attawalpa and I love you so much it aches and we will always put ointment on the tips of your ears. Thank you to @apurposefulrescue for giving me the only cuddles that matter from my truest friend. It’s a cliche for a reason: a rescue rescues you!
I got lost so you could find me.
Love infinity,
Mumma
Ingrid, From the moment you were placed in my arms, trembling and bumpy and roughly the size of a honeydew melon, I knew that I belonged to you. A lot of life had to happen for us to locate each other on this vast earth, but you came along right in time- during some of the loneliest and most confusing moments, you have been my reason to strap on a smile and meet the world (or to burrow in bed- I remain convinced you have totally understood the entire arc of Bachelor in Paradise.) We are both an acquired taste, but our imperfections fit together as snugly as the two of us on a long car ride. When you itch, I itch. When you snore, I snore.
Happy 5th birthday (or is it 5000th) to the lumpiest troll in the history of lumpy trolls. @attawalpa and I love you so much it aches and we will always put ointment on the tips of your ears. Thank you to @apurposefulrescue for giving me the only cuddles that matter from my truest friend. It’s a cliche for a reason: a rescue rescues you!
I got lost so you could find me.
Love infinity,
Mumma
Ingrid, From the moment you were placed in my arms, trembling and bumpy and roughly the size of a honeydew melon, I knew that I belonged to you. A lot of life had to happen for us to locate each other on this vast earth, but you came along right in time- during some of the loneliest and most confusing moments, you have been my reason to strap on a smile and meet the world (or to burrow in bed- I remain convinced you have totally understood the entire arc of Bachelor in Paradise.) We are both an acquired taste, but our imperfections fit together as snugly as the two of us on a long car ride. When you itch, I itch. When you snore, I snore.
Happy 5th birthday (or is it 5000th) to the lumpiest troll in the history of lumpy trolls. @attawalpa and I love you so much it aches and we will always put ointment on the tips of your ears. Thank you to @apurposefulrescue for giving me the only cuddles that matter from my truest friend. It’s a cliche for a reason: a rescue rescues you!
I got lost so you could find me.
Love infinity,
Mumma
Ingrid, From the moment you were placed in my arms, trembling and bumpy and roughly the size of a honeydew melon, I knew that I belonged to you. A lot of life had to happen for us to locate each other on this vast earth, but you came along right in time- during some of the loneliest and most confusing moments, you have been my reason to strap on a smile and meet the world (or to burrow in bed- I remain convinced you have totally understood the entire arc of Bachelor in Paradise.) We are both an acquired taste, but our imperfections fit together as snugly as the two of us on a long car ride. When you itch, I itch. When you snore, I snore.
Happy 5th birthday (or is it 5000th) to the lumpiest troll in the history of lumpy trolls. @attawalpa and I love you so much it aches and we will always put ointment on the tips of your ears. Thank you to @apurposefulrescue for giving me the only cuddles that matter from my truest friend. It’s a cliche for a reason: a rescue rescues you!
I got lost so you could find me.
Love infinity,
Mumma
Ingrid, From the moment you were placed in my arms, trembling and bumpy and roughly the size of a honeydew melon, I knew that I belonged to you. A lot of life had to happen for us to locate each other on this vast earth, but you came along right in time- during some of the loneliest and most confusing moments, you have been my reason to strap on a smile and meet the world (or to burrow in bed- I remain convinced you have totally understood the entire arc of Bachelor in Paradise.) We are both an acquired taste, but our imperfections fit together as snugly as the two of us on a long car ride. When you itch, I itch. When you snore, I snore.
Happy 5th birthday (or is it 5000th) to the lumpiest troll in the history of lumpy trolls. @attawalpa and I love you so much it aches and we will always put ointment on the tips of your ears. Thank you to @apurposefulrescue for giving me the only cuddles that matter from my truest friend. It’s a cliche for a reason: a rescue rescues you!
I got lost so you could find me.
Love infinity,
Mumma
Writers, directors and actors are nothing without crew- IATSE, LiUNA and Teamsters- and many crew members are at risk of losing healthcare during this challenging time. That’s why a group of us have come together to form @tusctogether. We are working with @mptf to raise funds for crew healthcare and this auction does just that. The items are beyond amazing (like, a portrait of your pet by John Lithgow? THE apron from The Bear!? And SO much more- including a story session on zoom with THE Spike Jonze and me, or a chance for me to paint a mural in your actual house.) Please bid knowing every cent matters. Thank you to @ebay for hosting us. I love this business. I love these people. Link in bio.
Pretty sure every summer I post about my distaste for the season- and it’s not a comedic bit or an assumed quirk (after all, hating summer doesn’t really win friends and influence people- summer is, like, popular. There’s a reason 90s popular girls were all named Summer.) Since I was a little kid, as spring sprung in New York- older kids hung out in the park with super soakers, cannonballed into the neighborhood pool on Houston, Mr Softee played his lonesome tune- panic enveloped me. I never liked going outside- sun made me dizzy but rain made me cold, I burned easily and bruised even more so. My true occupation was under the covers with a book, a notepad, a pet, a doll with a skirt that transformed into a cupcake. My parents, bless them, instituted basic summer rules- go out for an hour and we’ll leave you be for 23 more. As I got older and understood the chronic health issues/disability I was dealing with, my aversion made more sense- Ehler-Danlos flares can be triggered by extreme temperature and sensitive skin is a hallmark. In resisting what hurt, I’d formed… well, a full personality. The thing that makes me a writer, a director sprouted from the very same chromosome that made me stay in my bunk during free time at camp (as you can tell, I’ve always been a nexus of social currency!) Now, as an adult, I have myself on a similar regimen as the ones my parents put me on back in the day. Unless I’m working, I don’t think I’ve spent a full day outdoors in my adult life. That may sound tragic but when I take my brief trips- around the block, on a plane or train or peering out of a car window at an early morning view- I experience these places, these moments, very deeply- my dog stretching next to me in the sun takes on psychedelic status. This summer what I witnessed was mostly from my window, writing about other places but dreaming about just where I am. So this is just some love for everyone who feels like they’re looking at summer as they live it, a voyeur, scared to miss out but scared to jump in. Don’t be so quick to offer self-judgment- you may be forming your own arsenal of superpowers as we speak, avoiding the water but still making a splash. Summer Days
Pretty sure every summer I post about my distaste for the season- and it’s not a comedic bit or an assumed quirk (after all, hating summer doesn’t really win friends and influence people- summer is, like, popular. There’s a reason 90s popular girls were all named Summer.) Since I was a little kid, as spring sprung in New York- older kids hung out in the park with super soakers, cannonballed into the neighborhood pool on Houston, Mr Softee played his lonesome tune- panic enveloped me. I never liked going outside- sun made me dizzy but rain made me cold, I burned easily and bruised even more so. My true occupation was under the covers with a book, a notepad, a pet, a doll with a skirt that transformed into a cupcake. My parents, bless them, instituted basic summer rules- go out for an hour and we’ll leave you be for 23 more. As I got older and understood the chronic health issues/disability I was dealing with, my aversion made more sense- Ehler-Danlos flares can be triggered by extreme temperature and sensitive skin is a hallmark. In resisting what hurt, I’d formed… well, a full personality. The thing that makes me a writer, a director sprouted from the very same chromosome that made me stay in my bunk during free time at camp (as you can tell, I’ve always been a nexus of social currency!) Now, as an adult, I have myself on a similar regimen as the ones my parents put me on back in the day. Unless I’m working, I don’t think I’ve spent a full day outdoors in my adult life. That may sound tragic but when I take my brief trips- around the block, on a plane or train or peering out of a car window at an early morning view- I experience these places, these moments, very deeply- my dog stretching next to me in the sun takes on psychedelic status. This summer what I witnessed was mostly from my window, writing about other places but dreaming about just where I am. So this is just some love for everyone who feels like they’re looking at summer as they live it, a voyeur, scared to miss out but scared to jump in. Don’t be so quick to offer self-judgment- you may be forming your own arsenal of superpowers as we speak, avoiding the water but still making a splash. Summer Days
Pretty sure every summer I post about my distaste for the season- and it’s not a comedic bit or an assumed quirk (after all, hating summer doesn’t really win friends and influence people- summer is, like, popular. There’s a reason 90s popular girls were all named Summer.) Since I was a little kid, as spring sprung in New York- older kids hung out in the park with super soakers, cannonballed into the neighborhood pool on Houston, Mr Softee played his lonesome tune- panic enveloped me. I never liked going outside- sun made me dizzy but rain made me cold, I burned easily and bruised even more so. My true occupation was under the covers with a book, a notepad, a pet, a doll with a skirt that transformed into a cupcake. My parents, bless them, instituted basic summer rules- go out for an hour and we’ll leave you be for 23 more. As I got older and understood the chronic health issues/disability I was dealing with, my aversion made more sense- Ehler-Danlos flares can be triggered by extreme temperature and sensitive skin is a hallmark. In resisting what hurt, I’d formed… well, a full personality. The thing that makes me a writer, a director sprouted from the very same chromosome that made me stay in my bunk during free time at camp (as you can tell, I’ve always been a nexus of social currency!) Now, as an adult, I have myself on a similar regimen as the ones my parents put me on back in the day. Unless I’m working, I don’t think I’ve spent a full day outdoors in my adult life. That may sound tragic but when I take my brief trips- around the block, on a plane or train or peering out of a car window at an early morning view- I experience these places, these moments, very deeply- my dog stretching next to me in the sun takes on psychedelic status. This summer what I witnessed was mostly from my window, writing about other places but dreaming about just where I am. So this is just some love for everyone who feels like they’re looking at summer as they live it, a voyeur, scared to miss out but scared to jump in. Don’t be so quick to offer self-judgment- you may be forming your own arsenal of superpowers as we speak, avoiding the water but still making a splash. Summer Days
Pretty sure every summer I post about my distaste for the season- and it’s not a comedic bit or an assumed quirk (after all, hating summer doesn’t really win friends and influence people- summer is, like, popular. There’s a reason 90s popular girls were all named Summer.) Since I was a little kid, as spring sprung in New York- older kids hung out in the park with super soakers, cannonballed into the neighborhood pool on Houston, Mr Softee played his lonesome tune- panic enveloped me. I never liked going outside- sun made me dizzy but rain made me cold, I burned easily and bruised even more so. My true occupation was under the covers with a book, a notepad, a pet, a doll with a skirt that transformed into a cupcake. My parents, bless them, instituted basic summer rules- go out for an hour and we’ll leave you be for 23 more. As I got older and understood the chronic health issues/disability I was dealing with, my aversion made more sense- Ehler-Danlos flares can be triggered by extreme temperature and sensitive skin is a hallmark. In resisting what hurt, I’d formed… well, a full personality. The thing that makes me a writer, a director sprouted from the very same chromosome that made me stay in my bunk during free time at camp (as you can tell, I’ve always been a nexus of social currency!) Now, as an adult, I have myself on a similar regimen as the ones my parents put me on back in the day. Unless I’m working, I don’t think I’ve spent a full day outdoors in my adult life. That may sound tragic but when I take my brief trips- around the block, on a plane or train or peering out of a car window at an early morning view- I experience these places, these moments, very deeply- my dog stretching next to me in the sun takes on psychedelic status. This summer what I witnessed was mostly from my window, writing about other places but dreaming about just where I am. So this is just some love for everyone who feels like they’re looking at summer as they live it, a voyeur, scared to miss out but scared to jump in. Don’t be so quick to offer self-judgment- you may be forming your own arsenal of superpowers as we speak, avoiding the water but still making a splash. Summer Days
Pretty sure every summer I post about my distaste for the season- and it’s not a comedic bit or an assumed quirk (after all, hating summer doesn’t really win friends and influence people- summer is, like, popular. There’s a reason 90s popular girls were all named Summer.) Since I was a little kid, as spring sprung in New York- older kids hung out in the park with super soakers, cannonballed into the neighborhood pool on Houston, Mr Softee played his lonesome tune- panic enveloped me. I never liked going outside- sun made me dizzy but rain made me cold, I burned easily and bruised even more so. My true occupation was under the covers with a book, a notepad, a pet, a doll with a skirt that transformed into a cupcake. My parents, bless them, instituted basic summer rules- go out for an hour and we’ll leave you be for 23 more. As I got older and understood the chronic health issues/disability I was dealing with, my aversion made more sense- Ehler-Danlos flares can be triggered by extreme temperature and sensitive skin is a hallmark. In resisting what hurt, I’d formed… well, a full personality. The thing that makes me a writer, a director sprouted from the very same chromosome that made me stay in my bunk during free time at camp (as you can tell, I’ve always been a nexus of social currency!) Now, as an adult, I have myself on a similar regimen as the ones my parents put me on back in the day. Unless I’m working, I don’t think I’ve spent a full day outdoors in my adult life. That may sound tragic but when I take my brief trips- around the block, on a plane or train or peering out of a car window at an early morning view- I experience these places, these moments, very deeply- my dog stretching next to me in the sun takes on psychedelic status. This summer what I witnessed was mostly from my window, writing about other places but dreaming about just where I am. So this is just some love for everyone who feels like they’re looking at summer as they live it, a voyeur, scared to miss out but scared to jump in. Don’t be so quick to offer self-judgment- you may be forming your own arsenal of superpowers as we speak, avoiding the water but still making a splash. Summer Days
Pretty sure every summer I post about my distaste for the season- and it’s not a comedic bit or an assumed quirk (after all, hating summer doesn’t really win friends and influence people- summer is, like, popular. There’s a reason 90s popular girls were all named Summer.) Since I was a little kid, as spring sprung in New York- older kids hung out in the park with super soakers, cannonballed into the neighborhood pool on Houston, Mr Softee played his lonesome tune- panic enveloped me. I never liked going outside- sun made me dizzy but rain made me cold, I burned easily and bruised even more so. My true occupation was under the covers with a book, a notepad, a pet, a doll with a skirt that transformed into a cupcake. My parents, bless them, instituted basic summer rules- go out for an hour and we’ll leave you be for 23 more. As I got older and understood the chronic health issues/disability I was dealing with, my aversion made more sense- Ehler-Danlos flares can be triggered by extreme temperature and sensitive skin is a hallmark. In resisting what hurt, I’d formed… well, a full personality. The thing that makes me a writer, a director sprouted from the very same chromosome that made me stay in my bunk during free time at camp (as you can tell, I’ve always been a nexus of social currency!) Now, as an adult, I have myself on a similar regimen as the ones my parents put me on back in the day. Unless I’m working, I don’t think I’ve spent a full day outdoors in my adult life. That may sound tragic but when I take my brief trips- around the block, on a plane or train or peering out of a car window at an early morning view- I experience these places, these moments, very deeply- my dog stretching next to me in the sun takes on psychedelic status. This summer what I witnessed was mostly from my window, writing about other places but dreaming about just where I am. So this is just some love for everyone who feels like they’re looking at summer as they live it, a voyeur, scared to miss out but scared to jump in. Don’t be so quick to offer self-judgment- you may be forming your own arsenal of superpowers as we speak, avoiding the water but still making a splash. Summer Days
Pretty sure every summer I post about my distaste for the season- and it’s not a comedic bit or an assumed quirk (after all, hating summer doesn’t really win friends and influence people- summer is, like, popular. There’s a reason 90s popular girls were all named Summer.) Since I was a little kid, as spring sprung in New York- older kids hung out in the park with super soakers, cannonballed into the neighborhood pool on Houston, Mr Softee played his lonesome tune- panic enveloped me. I never liked going outside- sun made me dizzy but rain made me cold, I burned easily and bruised even more so. My true occupation was under the covers with a book, a notepad, a pet, a doll with a skirt that transformed into a cupcake. My parents, bless them, instituted basic summer rules- go out for an hour and we’ll leave you be for 23 more. As I got older and understood the chronic health issues/disability I was dealing with, my aversion made more sense- Ehler-Danlos flares can be triggered by extreme temperature and sensitive skin is a hallmark. In resisting what hurt, I’d formed… well, a full personality. The thing that makes me a writer, a director sprouted from the very same chromosome that made me stay in my bunk during free time at camp (as you can tell, I’ve always been a nexus of social currency!) Now, as an adult, I have myself on a similar regimen as the ones my parents put me on back in the day. Unless I’m working, I don’t think I’ve spent a full day outdoors in my adult life. That may sound tragic but when I take my brief trips- around the block, on a plane or train or peering out of a car window at an early morning view- I experience these places, these moments, very deeply- my dog stretching next to me in the sun takes on psychedelic status. This summer what I witnessed was mostly from my window, writing about other places but dreaming about just where I am. So this is just some love for everyone who feels like they’re looking at summer as they live it, a voyeur, scared to miss out but scared to jump in. Don’t be so quick to offer self-judgment- you may be forming your own arsenal of superpowers as we speak, avoiding the water but still making a splash. Summer Days
Pretty sure every summer I post about my distaste for the season- and it’s not a comedic bit or an assumed quirk (after all, hating summer doesn’t really win friends and influence people- summer is, like, popular. There’s a reason 90s popular girls were all named Summer.) Since I was a little kid, as spring sprung in New York- older kids hung out in the park with super soakers, cannonballed into the neighborhood pool on Houston, Mr Softee played his lonesome tune- panic enveloped me. I never liked going outside- sun made me dizzy but rain made me cold, I burned easily and bruised even more so. My true occupation was under the covers with a book, a notepad, a pet, a doll with a skirt that transformed into a cupcake. My parents, bless them, instituted basic summer rules- go out for an hour and we’ll leave you be for 23 more. As I got older and understood the chronic health issues/disability I was dealing with, my aversion made more sense- Ehler-Danlos flares can be triggered by extreme temperature and sensitive skin is a hallmark. In resisting what hurt, I’d formed… well, a full personality. The thing that makes me a writer, a director sprouted from the very same chromosome that made me stay in my bunk during free time at camp (as you can tell, I’ve always been a nexus of social currency!) Now, as an adult, I have myself on a similar regimen as the ones my parents put me on back in the day. Unless I’m working, I don’t think I’ve spent a full day outdoors in my adult life. That may sound tragic but when I take my brief trips- around the block, on a plane or train or peering out of a car window at an early morning view- I experience these places, these moments, very deeply- my dog stretching next to me in the sun takes on psychedelic status. This summer what I witnessed was mostly from my window, writing about other places but dreaming about just where I am. So this is just some love for everyone who feels like they’re looking at summer as they live it, a voyeur, scared to miss out but scared to jump in. Don’t be so quick to offer self-judgment- you may be forming your own arsenal of superpowers as we speak, avoiding the water but still making a splash. Summer Days
Pretty sure every summer I post about my distaste for the season- and it’s not a comedic bit or an assumed quirk (after all, hating summer doesn’t really win friends and influence people- summer is, like, popular. There’s a reason 90s popular girls were all named Summer.) Since I was a little kid, as spring sprung in New York- older kids hung out in the park with super soakers, cannonballed into the neighborhood pool on Houston, Mr Softee played his lonesome tune- panic enveloped me. I never liked going outside- sun made me dizzy but rain made me cold, I burned easily and bruised even more so. My true occupation was under the covers with a book, a notepad, a pet, a doll with a skirt that transformed into a cupcake. My parents, bless them, instituted basic summer rules- go out for an hour and we’ll leave you be for 23 more. As I got older and understood the chronic health issues/disability I was dealing with, my aversion made more sense- Ehler-Danlos flares can be triggered by extreme temperature and sensitive skin is a hallmark. In resisting what hurt, I’d formed… well, a full personality. The thing that makes me a writer, a director sprouted from the very same chromosome that made me stay in my bunk during free time at camp (as you can tell, I’ve always been a nexus of social currency!) Now, as an adult, I have myself on a similar regimen as the ones my parents put me on back in the day. Unless I’m working, I don’t think I’ve spent a full day outdoors in my adult life. That may sound tragic but when I take my brief trips- around the block, on a plane or train or peering out of a car window at an early morning view- I experience these places, these moments, very deeply- my dog stretching next to me in the sun takes on psychedelic status. This summer what I witnessed was mostly from my window, writing about other places but dreaming about just where I am. So this is just some love for everyone who feels like they’re looking at summer as they live it, a voyeur, scared to miss out but scared to jump in. Don’t be so quick to offer self-judgment- you may be forming your own arsenal of superpowers as we speak, avoiding the water but still making a splash. Summer Days
Pretty sure every summer I post about my distaste for the season- and it’s not a comedic bit or an assumed quirk (after all, hating summer doesn’t really win friends and influence people- summer is, like, popular. There’s a reason 90s popular girls were all named Summer.) Since I was a little kid, as spring sprung in New York- older kids hung out in the park with super soakers, cannonballed into the neighborhood pool on Houston, Mr Softee played his lonesome tune- panic enveloped me. I never liked going outside- sun made me dizzy but rain made me cold, I burned easily and bruised even more so. My true occupation was under the covers with a book, a notepad, a pet, a doll with a skirt that transformed into a cupcake. My parents, bless them, instituted basic summer rules- go out for an hour and we’ll leave you be for 23 more. As I got older and understood the chronic health issues/disability I was dealing with, my aversion made more sense- Ehler-Danlos flares can be triggered by extreme temperature and sensitive skin is a hallmark. In resisting what hurt, I’d formed… well, a full personality. The thing that makes me a writer, a director sprouted from the very same chromosome that made me stay in my bunk during free time at camp (as you can tell, I’ve always been a nexus of social currency!) Now, as an adult, I have myself on a similar regimen as the ones my parents put me on back in the day. Unless I’m working, I don’t think I’ve spent a full day outdoors in my adult life. That may sound tragic but when I take my brief trips- around the block, on a plane or train or peering out of a car window at an early morning view- I experience these places, these moments, very deeply- my dog stretching next to me in the sun takes on psychedelic status. This summer what I witnessed was mostly from my window, writing about other places but dreaming about just where I am. So this is just some love for everyone who feels like they’re looking at summer as they live it, a voyeur, scared to miss out but scared to jump in. Don’t be so quick to offer self-judgment- you may be forming your own arsenal of superpowers as we speak, avoiding the water but still making a splash. Summer Days
