Los Angeles.

Los Angeles.

View from the covertible.

It's literally a dream come true.

It's literally paradise.

The hills

and the green

and the palm trees.

It's the type of beauty

that has a touch

of charming arrogance to it--

like it knows how perfect it is

and it's pleased with itself.

As it should be.

The billboards.

The twisting knots of freeways,

always crammed with people

that I look at, thinking,

"You live here.

All the time.

This is your life."

It's hard to believe.

These people.

All of them.

All types of them--

not just Caucasians.

Not just Americans.

Murmurs of French heard

in the strangest places.

People working in Italian restaurants

a block from the beach.

People who live

just between the Pacific Coast Highway

and the water.

Tamales.

And sunshine.

And amusement parks.

And naked people

on the side of the highway.

And teenage boys surfing

and ladies cursing at each other

in the Costco parking lot.

And Koreans with cute babies

studying at UCLA.

And men that walk around

just dressed like Charlie Chaplin.

And,

and,

and,

all of it.

It buzzes with all the electricity

of all the people

whose dream it is to be there.

And when you're there,

you understand why.

The Puritan.

This is Katie.

And that's Jonathan.

They're going to get married.

Katie is my roommate.

She wasn't originally going to be,

but I think it was meant to be.

An example with explain everything.

One morning, I woke up at 7 am

and went down to the kitchen.

Katie was there.

She ate a cold leftover hamburger

and I ate ice cream out of the carton

and we talked.

But it's okay,

because with Katie,

it's always a judge-free zone.

And mornings and evenings

in the kitchen with Katie

are something to look forward to.

They make every day feel like

I have something really special planned.

She lets me try the health products

from her work--

even one called "intestinal cleanse."

And she dresses like a dementor

most days.

It's incredible how well she listens.

And how many nice things she says.

If she and Jonathan
can't find an apartment,
I'd be cool with that.
Then they could just move in with us
after they get married.

I'll miss her.

And I will also miss him
teasing me about boys

and sometimes having a Hitler mustache.

How I Felt at Church Today: The Snow Globe.

Today at church,

I started remembering

all these times

from when it was warmer.

Sitting next to Bryce,

eating pizza

and wanting to be his friend,

but not having anything to say.

Standing in a circle

and eating Creamies

in the Alders' basement.

Sitting in the grass once,

talking to people

that I didn't know well.

Driving into the mountains

to chase the Northern Lights.

There was

a strange sense of pain

in all of these memories.

Rejection.

Alienation.

Disappointment.

Frustration.

But as I thought about them,

I felt a circle of joy

surrounding me like a snow globe.

The joy of all these memories.

Bryce and I are friends now.

The Creamies were good

and the friends were better.

Sitting in that grass

with those people I didn't know well

meant that the next time I talked to them,

I knew them better.

We didn't find the Northern Lights

but we laughed in the car

and sang Taylor Swift.

I felt like

I was in a snow globe.

And those memories

had been lying around my feet

and I thought they were broken

and sad.

But then someone tipped over

the snow globe,

and the memories flew around me

like snow

and I could see

that they were joyful.

I could see

that everything in the past

that had brought me pain

was now made of joy.

See also
How I Felt at Church Today: The Dish and the Star.

One Brother.

I have

one brother

and one sister.

And I really can't imagine it

any other way.

I have one of each.

How could I have

more than one

of each?

Lately,

I've been noticing something

more often than usual.

When I see a boy

out of the corner of my eye,

there is always

one split second

when I think,

"Oh, that's my brother."

It's the movement of a hand

when he's talking.

Or when he's sitting next to me

and leans forward.

I have one brother.

And growing up,

he was the one

whose hand I saw moving.

Who leaned forward.

In my life,

I learned about

what boys looked like,

what boys moved like,

what they thought like,

through my one brother.

And they will always hold

a little bit of him

in them.

See also

Brother

Beautiful bits of life.

Arguably my favorite part of each day

is putting on thermals

and sweatpants

and socks

and slippers

and a sweatshirt

and getting down cozy in my bed

and going to sleep.

My second favorite part of each day

is waking up

all cozy

and letting myself

lie in bed

for a while.

.

.

.

Today, it snowed.

And that made me laugh a little crazy.

Looking up at snow as it falls

is literally magical

because it's perfectly still

and full of movement

all at once.

.

.

.

I just watched Taylor Swift's new video

for "Blank Space,"

and it also made me laugh

a little crazy.

But now I just want to watch it

over and over.

.

.

.

Sometimes I look at my text messages

and the last six people that I've texted

are all people

that I love so much

and that makes me smile.

.

.

.

Yesterday I went inside

a Tudor Revival style house

and now I think I'm obsessed

with half-timbering.

.

.

.

Yesterday there was also a Black Keys concert

that I secretly wanted to go to

but I knew that wasn't going to happen.

Even knowing that it happened

less than an hour away

is still beautiful.

.

.

.

My friends were teasing me today

for the number of browser tabs

that I keep open.

It was 38 at the time, I think.

And I told them

that I'd kept a tab open

for probably more than four months

because I liked this picture

and I didn't want to lose it:

Dia de los Muertos.

On Dia de los Muertos,

Amy and Emily and I

got Mexican food

and Jarritos

and ate in the cemetery.

We spread out our blanket near a tree

next to Henrick and Bodel Jensen.

And as we sat down,

I felt instinctively

that the Jensens were glad

that we had come to visit them.

It was chilly.

We ate and talked

and took pictures.

Piña, Toronja, y Limón

I read a poem out loud.

And then I looked around

and thought,

When you die,

they'll put your name

and some dates

on a stone.

And somehow

that feels like a fitting reward

for having lived a life.

.

.

.

Once I saw mountains angry,

And ranged in battle-front.

Against them stood a little man;

Aye, he was no bigger than my finger.

I laughed, and spoke to one near me,

"Will he prevail?"

"Surely," replied the other;

"His grandfathers beat them many times."

Then did I see much virtue in grandfathers--

At least, for the little man

Who stood against the mountains.
Stephen Crane

It's You I Like.

Dear friend,

Today I asked God

what I should be

when I grow up,

and He said,

"Nice to people."

Which is pretty easy

when it's you

that I'm trying to be nice to.

There's this thing that happens

when I think about you.

It's like my heart burns

and then explodes.

Because look at you!

You sure are something.

I could list the things

that I like about you,

but it's simpler than that.

I just like you.

Whatever it is exactly

that makes you you,

I like that.

I love it, actually.

So sometimes I say to you,

"You just be you,"

or

"Do whatever you want.

You won't make a mistake,"

or

"You're really really trying,

and that's so admirable."

Because sometimes you tell me

what you're going to be

for Halloween.

Or you tell me about

how you're not sure

what to do about this boy.

And I just want you to know

that I love

whatever you're going to be

for Halloween.

And I love

whatever you're going to text back

to this boy.

Because you're you.

And when you make choices,

you're being even more you

and putting more of yourself

into this world.

And more of you being you

is exactly what this world needs.

And look.

Mr. Rogers wrote this song

that I wish I had written

about you.

If I could have written this song

about you,

I would have written it

the same way he did.

Because it really is you

that I like.

Not the things you wear.

The way you are right now.

The way down deep inside you.

Your skin. Your eyes. Your feelings.

Anyway,

I wish I told you that more often.

But sometimes when my heart explodes,

I'm not eloquent enough

to say all this.

And you can't always interrupt

a conversation about Halloween costumes

to tell someone

how much you value them

just being who they are.

Some days I will come up to you

and say,

"Here are four things

that I like about you

that I've been thinking about."

On all the other days,

just reread this letter.

Love,

Rachel