❝ aut viam inveniam aut faciam. ❞

— attributed to hannibal, meaning either i will find a way, or i will make one. motto for 2019.

numbers —

• 1 degree received: ba music with a concentration in contemporary composition ♡
• 2 new and lovely jobs
• 3 adventures embarked upon on my own
• 5 new cities visited
• 44 books read
• 140 films watched

a song for every season —

the artists that bring to mind every quarter of 2019

• ► winter
  • ajr, tame impala, one direction
• ► spring
  • pink floyd, the rolling stones, nirvana
• ► summer
  • ac/dc, bastille, the garden, nick drake
• ► autumn
  • the killers, orville peck, the ruen brothers

the stars in my skies —

• nick drake
• syd barrett
• kurt cobain
• jim morrison
• robert mapplethorpe

beloved literature —

• catiline ▸ henrik ibsen
• just kids ▸ patti smith
• brothers in battle, best of friends ▸ bill guarnere
• in watermelon sugar ▸ richard brautigan
• ghosts ▸ henrik ibsen
• alice in bed ▸ susan sontag

beloved cinema —

• inside llewyn davis
• mary queen of scots
• the royal tenenbaums
• taxi driver
• apocalypse now
• inglourious basterds
• rushmore
• badlands
• django unchained
• primal fear
• hi, mom!
• joker
• jojo rabbit
• ford v ferrari
• love & mercy

those i loved to see on my screen —

• oscar isaac
• ewan mcgregor
• giovanni ribisi
• lewis pullman
• daniel brühl
• martin sheen
• sebastian armesto

cities visited —

• apalachicola, florida
• biloxi, mississippi
• new orleans, louisiana
• new york, new york
• pensacola, florida
• washington, dc
• youngstown, ohio

looking back on the year —

• in january, the new year dawned bright and white and clear. studying latin, painting, and daydreaming always about 4th century alexandria. scribbling notes to myself in ancient greek on receipt paper. returning to school, and to the bitter cold. watched films, watched films, watched films. at eternity's gate. the girl with a pearl earring. snuggled up in bed during the storm, a cup of vanilla macaron tea, reading tolstoy, watching the snow fall.
• in february, my love for photography began to unfurl tiny sprouts. playing with lighting, taking portraits at dawn, burying my nose in the work of annie leibovitz. playing video games and drinking green tea with marie. daydreaming about the prequels. carrying around my tiny poe dameron action figure, falling in mentor-love with my professor, absolutely eating up the book on the weimar republic everyone loathed in german history. high praise from my german history professor. maybe i could be a writer...
• in march, i went home for spring break and felt with a deep and resounding click a new era in my life beginning. "he was the renewal. this is the rebirth." just kids by patti smith. the feeling, you know the one, of a book when it changes your entire life. reaching the last page and sobbing, sobbing, sobbing. the entrance of a guardian angel. a showing at the campus theatre that changed me once again, this time, into a happier person. the bleak and hard winter was melting away. heart eyes over mick taylor, dreaming about syd barrett, dancing at 1 am to the sound of jim morrison's velvety croon... the ice was melting. flowers were starting to bloom, in beds, in my heart.
• in april, the end was drawing near. working day and night on my senior recital, putting absolutely every ounce of my strength into what i knew would be just a fleeting moment of glory. staying up later and later, writing poems when i should have been sleeping. "you've got to put your bodies on the gears!" knowing your professor to be your soulmate (the sideways smiles, the butterflies of laughter, the deep and profound feeling of love for one another...) pools of sunlight on cafe tables. robert mapplethorpe, and the dedication of my recital. my last concert. my last university class. hiding away for hours on the third floor of the library, surrounded by piles and piles of photography books...
• in may, i packed to leave uni for the final time. nirvana on repeat to drown out the bad feelings. and then... graduating! finally free, finally out in the world where i belonged. diving into poetry, and the music of my beloved nick drake. early morning walks, admiring the bright green of the early summer. antique stores. driving down long stretches of highway, windows down, volume cranked on the ramones. ac/dc, and a lot of it. justin came sauntering into my life, my other half. he's changed my world, and everything in it.
• in june, i wrote a poem everyday. spent hours listening to nick's music. celebrated his birthday with a party and cried, all day long — no one was surprised. visited abigail and galavanted across dc as we always have, as we probably always will, peering quizzically at modern art, riding up and down the metro line with a coffee in each hand, laughing ourselves to pieces over the fondest of memories. the beginning of my year of war dramas. platoon. apocalypse now. not realizing, yet definitely knowing, that martin sheen was going to stake his claim over my entire heart, and that i was going to let him.
• in july, i took my first trip to the deep south. mississippi, alabama, the far-west of florida, and my favorite, louisiana. cemeteries filled with mausoleums, live oaks draped in spanish moss and years worth of mardi gras beads, the eternal click-click-click of the streetcars running up and down st. charles ave, every hour of the day and night. the heat. beignets and po' boys. seven hours in the wwii museum, from open til close. then on our last day, streets flooded with waist-deep water. tornados across the city. and the lobby of our lovely hotel covered in the life blood of the mississippi river. barely making it out before hurricane barry came and had a big fat tantrum right on top of new orleans. when i came home, i started my first screenplay, inspired.
• in august, i rejoiced that for once, i did not have to return to school! spent the month watching war dramas, writing my screenplay. started my favorite job in the world, with my favorite people in the world. on my 3rd day working i shook hands with the nephew of the major winters, who i had just watched take on the european theatre with the 101st airborne in band of brothers. met xander, my sweetest dearest friend, who loves bob dylan and reads battered copies of jack kerouac and sits with me on the floor of the used bookstore, sighing about the beautiful and frenzied mind of james joyce. writing, writing. always writing.
• in september, i fell asleep and woke up in the misty town of twin peaks. spent hours upon hours admiring a world born like athena was born, from the head of my favorite space cadet, david lynch. laughed over dale cooper. cried over dale cooper. decided that dale cooper was, very much indeed, my soulmate. i started my portrait photography class. scribbled down pages upon pages of notes on edward s. curtis, julia margaret cameron. learned three point lighting. took dozens of portraits. smiled up at the ceiling in the dim of the classroom, shutters clicking, voices murmuring, knowing mr. mapplethorpe to be watching over it all.
• in october, i realized that every awful month of october leading up to that point had existed to foil the unyielding beauty of october 2019. returned to school, but to visit marie, and drink my favorite iced coffees, and to sit by ralph's grave, in the drizzling rain, thinking of the future, and how it all leaned tenderly back on the past, from where i had come. in the middle of the month, the highlight of my year. the bravery it took, the hope like a flame held aloft in my heart... to think of it makes me glow, makes me smile like crazy. the most wonderful evening ever spent, in all the world. turning 22 on the 20th of the month, and for once, not being afraid. of course spending the night with travis bickle, and of course, crying during the jujubes scene. some things never change. to end the month, another solo trip, this time to washington dc. overcast skies and sketching in the national gallery and sitting at a cafe on the corner, sipping a white iced mocha, journaling and daydreaming about the man they call vincent van gogh, but to me has always been my dearest vincent.
• in november, i became a playwright! spent two weeks in the arctic of the mid-19th century, listening to two very tired and very deceased sailors berate one another for three entire acts. thinking a lot about ritual sacrifice and mimetic theory. and then writing a second play! about the dust bowl. as one does. midway through the month i took my final solo trip of the year, this time to new york city. riding the train up the east coast, listening to my llewyn davis playlist and realizing that yes, indeed, llewyn and i are the same person. (sometimes "500 miles" just hits different). three days frolicking through the city! jojo rabbit in the most luxurious theatre ever, being reborn mind and body at the guggenheim during the mapplethorpe exhibition, which i had been planning to visit since march... obligatory hours-long stay at the metropolitan museum of art. feeling very much like patti smith in just kids, picking up a life-changing half-priced paperback book at the strand's kiosk near central park. realizing how very, very much i love being a writer. admiring ibsen's work. and never not thinking once about there will be blood. cinema is powerful, isn't it?
• in december, i picked up a seasonal position at the department store and spent a few weeks feeling like rooney mara in carol. lots of christmas music. folding clothes, printing gift receipts. and then the flu! delightful. it is such illnesses that give one the feeling of a new lease on life. very vivid, medicine-induced dreams. listening to hours and hours of roy orbison and floating away on a cloud borne by the sound of his sweet voice alone. devouring plays, learning the ropes of dramatic structure. probably too much mad men. my mom, always in a state of disbelief over my attachment to pete campbell. christmas. feeling excitement, not despair, talking about the future with my family. lying in bed next to justin. staring at the ceiling together, as we do. and knowing that this was a good year. a great year. one of immense change, lovely change, the best kind of change. looking forward to 2020, on bouncing heels.