Treat Yo’ Self


What do you call a bee that can’t make up its mind?


A maybe.


With Valentine’s Day right around the corner, I thought I’d compile a little list of some of my favorite ways of treating myself. I think self-care is super important especially in the busy lives that me and my peers tend to lead. It becomes increasingly easy to neglect the little things in order to fulfill exterior obligations and please others but it’s really difficult to give the best of yourself when you’re not feeling quite your best. There are some things that I have found so essential to keeping a positive mindset that they have become a part of my routine while other things I just indulge in once in awhile. Either way, it’s important to keep taking care of yourself on your “to do” list, no matter how long it gets.


Skin Care:

This is a category that I definitely consider essential and take care of every day. I just don’t think it’s possible to feel your best if your skin isn’t keeping up. Also, my skin tends to be the first indicator of my stress level so paying extra attention to it during times when I have too much on my plate is always worth it in the long run.


Mario Badescu Acne Facial Cleanser-

This stuff has been a true miracle for my oily skin, serving to both dry it out and keep my skin clear.

Formula 10.0.6 Seriously Shine Free Mattifying Moisturizer-

I love using this on no-makeup days which tend to happen often when I have a lot going on.

Farmacy Sleep Tight Night Balm-

A quick coat of this before I go to bed and I’m guaranteed to wake up with glowing skin.



Lately, I have found some great pieces in places I wouldn’t expect. They’re styles I have been drooling over at places like Anthropologie and Urban Outfitters but resented the price tag so when I found them at these prices, I just couldn’t resist.


SO Sherpa Zip-Up Jacket from Kohls-

Since buying this jacket I have worn it every day, and I only wish this was an exaggeration. It’s sherpa on the inside and outside making it a real treat for you as the wearer and anyone hugging you.

Universal Thread Wenda Cut Out Bootie from Target-

These shoes are not only extremely trendy but also surprisingly comfortable. They’re perfect for professional settings when you want to add a little edge to a business look.

Calling a Wolf a Wolf


What’s the leading cause of dry skin?




I am normally not one for poetry. I find it is at times trite, overcomplicated or using so much flowered language that I wonder if there is any substance under all those gossamer images. However, there is one exception and so far only one exception to this. Kaveh Akbar. I read his poetry for a class last year and fell deeply in love. The passion and sharp truth behind his words makes me tear up every time I read them. I was fortunate enough to FaceTime with him in class and the opportunity to ask him questions and hear him read his own poetry propelled my love ever deeper. His first full-length book was released at the end of 2017 and every poem is ridiculously impressive.

I think I enjoy his work so much because it reminds me of good fiction. Every word and line serves a specific purpose and any fatty bits have been skillfully removed with a scalpel’s precision. He says what he means and means what he says and I have great respect and admiration for that intense honesty. Going through the book I myself find underlining and highlighting most lines to the point of excess but I just can’t help it, they’re all SO GOOD. His imagery is solidly rooted in this material world so it is easily accessible and easy to connect with making it hit that much harder. Alcoholism, sorcery, Islam and a fading of tradition are all explored in this magnificent collection – even if you don’t like poetry I really recommend trying his because it is truly like nothing I have ever read before.

January Favorites


What kind of shoes does a pedophile wear?


White Vans.


With the first month of the new year already halfway over, I thought I’d take a second to appreciate some of my favorite creature comforts and tiny luxuries that I have discovered in 2018 or have held onto since 2017. These are the tiny things that brighten my day and that I can’t stop recommending to anyone who will listen long enough. I have either stumbled upon them myself or had them first recommended to me and it just seems selfish not to share the wealth.


Mama Ramen Noodles (shrimp flavor):

I’ll  be the first to admit that I’m decently picky and the thought of tiny, freeze-dried shrimp doesn’t really spark my appetite. However, the first time I tried this it was made for me by a friend and I never would’ve guessed the flavor. It carries flavor in its spices, is laughably easy to make and has quickly become a staple in mine and my friends’ kitchens.


Burt’s Bees Chapstick:

I consider myself somewhat of a chapstick connoisseur. I have been known to spend copious amounts of money on chapstick even if I have multiple unopened tubes in my makeup bag. What can I say? I think having dry lips is an issue that our species has evolved past suffering through and so, I like to live in comfort. Burt’s Bees has been a longstanding favorite of mine (especially the honey and original flavors) and I cannot recommend it enough to anyone looking for a simple solution to an extreme annoyance.


Himalayan Salt Lamp:

I got this for Christmas and have completely fallen head over heels for it. I am a sucker for mood lighting because historically, it has been proven to really help me wind down in the evenings. This lamp gives off a gorgeous pink glow and while I can’t speak to the positive ion claims, I can say the soft lighting certainly puts me in a good mood.


Tazo Boxed Chai Tea:

This stuff has gotten me through so many late classes and library study sessions that I think I owe half my GPA to it. It has just enough caffeine to wake you up without feeling jittery and the taste is phenomenal. Seriously, better than half the overpriced chai tea lattes that I have bought at various cafes. I make it with half almond milk, half chai tea and then a tiny swirl of vanilla extract mixed in to really bring out the sweeter notes.



I’m sure this seems like a bizarre favorite but lately, I have been having toast for breakfast and as someone who is adamantly NOT a morning person, it has really changed my perspective on mornings a bit. I use Heartland Grains Farmer Style White Bread lightly toasted with a thin layer of peanut butter on top and then a layer of Oregon Red Raspberry Preserves. Cannot recommend enough as a snack anytime of day but I think it’s best in the morning when you’re still in pajamas to make it while playing music in the kitchen.


Dr. Jart Tiger Grass Color Correcting Treatment:

I don’t like wearing foundation on a daily basis because I think it feels heavy and it tends to slide around a bit with the first signs of sweat. However, my complexion is towards the oily side and I have some uneven redness that I like to cover up. This product is the perfect in-between of powder and foundation. It stays decently matte throughout the day, is extremely lightweight and covers any and all redness with a natural glow. Also, it smells wonderful.

My Most Complete Love


What do you call a cow with no legs?


Ground beef


I was brainstorming on what my first post of 2018 should be and suddenly the answer was annoyingly clear: the thing that drove me to start this blog in the first place… writing. The truest love I have ever known.

My love for writing and my insatiable desire to pursue it constantly has always been a fact of who I am as much as my name is Caitlin Carr. I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember – and yes, I know that’s cliche and incredibly cheesy but it really is true. I have always written to fulfill this deep chasm inside of me. I scribble and type tirelessly and then pitch the pages into this darkness in the hopes that one day I will run to it and see my efforts have made it shallow, habitable enough to wade into. So far, this has been a fruitless venture but still, my hunger to fill the pages still persists. I have always been a fidgety person who struggles to truly do nothing – the idea of a completely empty day sounds more maddening than relaxing to me. Throughout my life, I have found a variety of activities to keep me busy (working out, dance, photography) but there has never been anything that comes close to the satisfaction of writing. Starting with a bright white page that feels like staring into the sun and then covering it in lines of text, has always been the greatest joy I have found.

The best advice I can give to any aspiring writer is to read. Read all the time, read anything you can get your hands on, read as if it’s as essential as breathing because, for you, it should be. In the poignant words of Stephen King, “Reading at meals is considered rude in polite society, but if you expect to succeed as a writer, rudeness should be the second-to-least of your concerns. The least of all should be polite society and what it expects. If you intend to write as truthfully as you can, your days as a member of polite society are numbered, anyway.” I’ve often learned as much, if not more, from terrible books as the best ones. When I see glaringly annoying idiosyncrasies in writing, it makes it that much more clear to me what I DON’T want to do and sometimes this is a great jumping off point. Incredible writing often puts me in such a state of awe that I have to take a couple days before I can attempt to integrate what I learned into my writing without being intimidated. Either way, reading other people’s writing will always teach you something that you could not have learned in the vacuum of your own style and ideas.

Writing is a tricky beast that demands the sinking of a lot of free time. It is a private and personal thing which means it can be easy to neglect. I tend to agree that it is indeed much more fun to go out and be social rather than locking yourself in your room with only your laptop for company, but such is the sacrifice that has to be made. It’s a lesson that I’ve learned the hard way more times than I would like to admit but your writing will never improve unless you make time for it as if it was a normal 9-5 job. Writing is a craft that demands a lot mentally and requires a lot of self-motivation. Some find it helpful to set aside specific hours to write but for me, it is a more visceral experience than anything else and to truly enjoy it I have to go into it excited. Music has been my greatest aid in this venture – I cannot even begin to list all the times I listened to a single song for hours simply because it gave me a feeling that I wanted to capture on paper and I didn’t want to lose it before I had adequately written all I had to say.

The main lesson I learned about writing in 2017 is that your imagination is a muscle as much as your bicep. It is more tricky to pin down and snarls a bit more when poked, but it is a muscle nonetheless. It will wither into ash if left unattended and it will not serve you unless you return the favor. If kept well-fed and allowed to run about in the fresh air, it will repay you in ways you could have never foreseen as possible. One of my favorite ways of doing this is travel. For me, there is no better spark of motivation than breaking out of my daily routine to experience something new. And don’t take this to mean it has to be a flight away either, road trips or even just taking your laptop to a new coffee shop are often more than enough to put that first sentence on the page.

I could fill an oceans-worth of pages all about what writing has done for me


He stepped forward into the nothing. I think I screamed but now all I can remember is that sudden sound of the emptiness. It seemed like the place that he was just standing in was quivering in his wake, ripping apart as time seemed to jump. How was it true? How did we get to this place? A month ago we had our anniversary dinner on this rooftop with candles and blankets and kisses all over. And now there is a violent absence: the deep rasp of his voice, the spicy bite of his cologne, his hair blowing in the soft breeze. And now what do I do? How do I honor his memory? I grocery shop and watch films and go to work and try to pretend it didn’t happen. Try to pretend he didn’t happen. My brain is still short-circuiting the loss.

“Can you come over? I think I need to clean out his things and I just don’t know how. I don’t know if the clothes should go to his family or to Goodwill..” I was rambling again. Olivia knew this and cut me off, “Of course, I’m free all afternoon so I’ll be right over. Can I bring anything? Never mind that, I’ll just bring some coffee.” She rarely lets me answer these days because she knows I’ll go on forever without actually getting anywhere. An hour later and she was at my doorstep, she’s always getting distracted by things and runs late because of this tendency. Our friendship works because I understand and am never actually ready when I ask her to come over anyways. She looks at me deeply, searching for an answer to a question not yet satisfied, “How are you?”

This question will never make sense to me. How am I? My husband decided that diving into slick asphalt from twenty stories up was a more appealing choice than spending another day in the life that we had built together. If you can go through and not be in a constantly shitty state of mind then please write a book or go on a speaking tour because I know lots of folks who would love to know your secret. “I’m fine, thanks.”

When the apartment looked sufficiently like we had to wade through boxes to get through the front door we decided to take a break for lunch. Olivia suggested a new cafe downtown and I didn’t have an opinion so that’s where we decided to go. With her mouth half full of sandwich she began in, “So are you thinking you’ll stay in the place or move? I’ve seen a bunch of cute studios in midtown for sale. Maybe that would be good for you Margs, a fresh start.”

“Maybe yeah. I don’t know Liv, it just seems so fast. His family hasn’t even been out to the place since everything, it might be too soon to just up and leave don’t you think? I would hate for them to come and try to settle things just to find it empty and you know as well as anyone how completely unhelpful the landlord is, he would never be able to direct them to their new place. What if…”

“Yeah I suppose that’s true logistically. I’m just thinking of you here. You have to deal with it in the best way for you Margo, you have just as much right to grieve over him as anyone else.” She sighed into her coffee cup.


“I just worry about you that’s all – you seem to be internalizing a lot of this.”

“Well I don’t exactly have the luxury of laying in bed all day crying.”

“I know, I know, I’m not suggesting that. I don’t know…” Olivia trailed off as she absently traced the edge of the table with her finger, “You just don’t seem to be acting the way the most people do.”

“Oh is that what you think?”

“Don’t get mad Margs, I’m just worried.”

I got angry and my face grew hot. I was furious she would say such a thing and frustrated with myself because I knew she was right. Suddenly, my cheeks grew sticky with warm tears.

“Sometimes I wake up and reach across the bed still expecting to find him there. My fingers grab and pull at the sheets even after I remember. They look anyways in the hopes that my head is wrong, that I’m remembering wrong. Sometimes I watch tv and make a snarky comment and jump a little when it’s met with only silence. Then I shrug it off and try to pretend it didn’t happen and that I’m fine because you know what? Sometimes I get so mad at him that if he came knocking on my door I don’t even know if I would open it. I want to scream at him and throw things and make him hurt. I want him to realize how fucking selfish he was. I want him to realize that his leaving was only half of it, he left me here alone. He bought a ticket and went on a trip without telling me to pack my bags.” Olivia reached across the table and grabbed my hand. “And then the worst part is the guilt. I yell at the empty places and cry and pull at my hair and then it’s all out and then I feel so awful. I think I must be the worst person in the world to hate someone I love more than I miss them. And it’s true Liv, there are moments where I really do think I hate him. How is that okay? How do I live with that? If he hadn’t gone and done what he did then I had vowed to love him forever but instead he’s gone early and I hate him sometimes more than I love him. That isn’t how I’m supposed to feel. That isn’t how normal people feel in these situations.”

I collapsed into the wall and Olivia slid in next to me, placing her arm around my shoulders. She let me cry for a few minutes – the ugly kind where my nose ran and my chest heaved and I didn’t even try to fix my makeup. “I don’t know how people are supposed to feel in this situation but I think you’re going to be just fine. He took away the most important thing in the world to you and that was a shitty thing to do. One of my exes – Tommy, you remember him right?” I sniffled and nodded. “Well when we broke up he took my favorite candle just to spite me, I know he doesn’t even burn candles. I still hate his guts for it and I didn’t love him half as much as you love Richie so I can only imagine the level of passion there. Look what I’m trying to say is that I think that you shouldn’t worry about what’s ‘normal’. I’m sorry about what I said earlier, I didn’t mean it that way. You feel whatever you need to feel to get through this.”

I don’t know when I stopped reaching across the sheets or talking to ghosts in the soft light of the television. I don’t remember when the anger faded but I remember that it did. One day I was reaching for a box of cereal in the grocery store and realized I wasn’t angry anymore. I still don’t understand why he did what he did and I’m still working on being okay with that but I know that day will come too.

Tattoos and Body Image


What kind of bagel can fly?


A plain bagel.

As is with most people I have had an up and down relationship with body image over the years. There have been days where I loved how I look and days where I didn’t want to step outside. A few years ago I finally took a deep breath and applied the same aggressively optimistic approach that I adopt in most situations that are outside of my control and essentially said to myself, “this is the body you have so you might as well be happy with it.” Since then I have felt mostly indifferent towards my body – I neither actively loved nor actively hated it. This, however, changed last Spring when I got my first tattoo. I suddenly found myself loving the skin I was in and wanting to show it off.

I will always hold that the best compliments are those about tattoos because they are one of the only things that are both permanently on your body and also chosen by you. They can hold significance or beauty or both and they will (most likely) last forever. People can compliment your eyes or your legs all day long but the fact is that there was never a specific moment when you decided that you wanted them as a part of you. Tattoos are chosen and created and eventually it feels as though they’ve always been there. Whenever people ask me if I get tired of mine, I ask them if they ever get tired of their pinky finger because to me, the ever-presence is the same.

My tattoos have given me a new sense of ownership over my skin and my body. They remind me that is my life and I have to be an assertive force in it rather than just taking a back seat and watching it pass me by. I think they are beautiful and they make me feel beautiful and quite frankly it makes me feel a tiny bit badass when people ask if it hurt and I shrug and answer honestly “not really.”

Living in Gratitude


How much room is needed for fungi to grow?


As mushroom as possible.


In June I was working in a cubicle at an engineering company and felt endlessly unsatisfied. No matter how much I put in the hours at the gym before work, no matter what I bought with my paycheck or what my bank account said I felt like the days were simply passing me by. Then one day on my lunch break I went to the mall across the street and bought a new notebook. I had every intention of using it as a normal journal until I sat down that night to write in it. I realized that I never stay consistent with journals because it is simply too much work at the end of the day and I knew this notebook would be no different. It would get it maybe half filled and then it would join the other party completed bound pages on my bookshelf. So instead, I used my notebook for a new idea I had: three bullet points of things that went well that day. I have done this every night since then and I know the notebook will be filled long before next June.

It works because it’s easy. At most, it takes five minutes so there is never a worthy excuse to not do it. On really good days I write more than three things and that way it is kind of like a journal in the documentation aspect. Besides, who wants to read their old journals just to relive how upset you were? We should be remembering the good things about life. There have certainly been days when it was difficult to think of three good things that happened but I have never written down less than three. The important thing to realize that good things can be as small as eating your favorite cereal in the morning or as big as going on a road trip with your best friends. The whole point is to start looking for the good in everything, in every day.

I absolutely cannot recommend this exercise enough. I promise that after a month you will truly see the world at least a little differently.

Bad Days


What’s the difference between a dirty bus stop and a well-endowed lobster?


One is a crusty bus station and the other is a busty crustacean.


Less than perfect days or just plain old no good, very bad days. They happen to even the most “glass half full” of us, no matter how hard we try to avoid it. I have certainly have had my fair share and have developed somewhat of a “sad routine” to make it a little more bearable. Something my mom always used to say after a bad day is “the best part about today is that it’s over” so I circulate a lot of these things around bedtime.

A cry sad day:

Step 1-

Put on Good Music: acoustic love songs

Step 2-

Cry it Out: it’s bound to happen so just let those salt streams run down your ruddy cheeks.

Step 3-

Skincare: once you feel like your eyes have appropriately leaked, do an even more intensive version of your normal nighttime skincare routine. For me, this really helps by being a symbolic end to the day. This is a great time for a face mask.

Step 4-

Zone Out: watch some stupid sitcom or comedy that is dumb enough you don’t have to think about it but is just captivating enough to get you out of your head. A personal favorite is That 70’s Show.

Step 5-

Pass Out Like There’s No Tomorrow: sleep in your favorite pajamas, with your favorite blankets and really nestle in.

An angry sad day:

Step 1-

Put on Good Music: angry rap or metal

Step 2-

Lace Up Those Running Shoes: I’m not much of a runner so I prefer to go to the gym and do a cardio-heavy workout with a lot of stretching after. I love making this a leg day because the ache the next day feels so satisfying. 

Step 3-

Get Steamy: take a long hot shower and when I say hot I mean it should hurt a little.

Step 4-

Hydrate: drink a ton of water because it will help refuel your body and give you glowing skin the next morning.

Step 5-

Pass Out Like There’s No Tomorrow: sleep in your favorite pajamas, with your favorite blankets and really nestle in.

Travel Tips


Why did the rancher give the pony a glass of water?


Because he was a little horse.

I am blessed to be able to say that my family does a decent amount of traveling. Throughout all these experiences I have streamlined a couple of pieces of advice that I follow myself in order to get the best experience possible. Hopefully you can gain something from them. Enjoy!


  1. Make a reservation for a meal after you arrive.

Airport food is generally overpriced and lack-luster. The best way to see a new city is to walk around and share a meal amongst the locals. Making a reservation before you reach your destination helps you avoid airport food and gets you a head start on exploring the city. Go to the hotel, drop off the bags, freshen up a bit and then either cab or walk to the restaurant.

This tip works especially well if you are traveling in a group because, in my experience, hungry stomachs don’t make quick decisions. Or if the hungry people do decide on a place to eat quickly, it’s probably not going to be the best the city has to offer. So research before your trip to save time and ensure that you all know where your next meal is coming from.

    2. Pack “freshen up” items in a carry-on.

I’ve learned from unfortunate experience that you never know when the flight gods will decide a sacrifice is in order. It’s when you’ve watched the empty luggage carousel go around three times and everyone else from your flight has left that you wish you would’ve had the foresight to do this. You head over to the help desk and they assure you that they will get you your bag by the next morning. In the meantime though, your skin is dry, you smell like an airplane and your mascara is smudged – and if you followed the previous tip, you have a dinner reservation to catch. All you want is your tried and true (and travel sized) beauty products.

Having your go-to items in a less than great experience like this truly makes the difference in how you feel moving forward with the rest of your day.

   3. Buy any tickets ahead of time

In this modern age of websites and apple pay, there are very few museums and attractions that don’t have systems for purchasing tickets ahead of time. You wake up in a fluffy hotel bed and look at your traveling companion and say “what are we gonna do today?” This tip helps cut down the time spent making a game plan for the day and helps make sure you really make it to the places you want to. Instead of waiting in line at the box office, you can spend that twenty minutes appreciating and exploring the attraction.

   4. Always carry a camera, always.

With increasingly amazing cell phone cameras, this rule is easier to follow than ever but I still feel the need to say it. Walking around a new city you just never know what you will see. I cannot even begin to compile a list of the peculiar things that I captured in a photograph that inspire me to this day- a steamed up window, ironically placed graffiti, a kid looking in the window of a toy store.

Along with this tip comes the one to always pay attention to the small stuff. The way water pools at the bottom of a condensation coated glass, a crumbling brick facade, a man holding his girlfriend on the subway – inspiration and beauty is truly everywhere. Places that locals frequent tend to make it easier to see so I recommend checking out public transportation, marketplaces, and parks.


As a closing note, I just suggest to truly appreciate every moment while traveling. Don’t let egos, a missed train or bad weather spoil your mood because you never know when you’ll have the opportunity to be there again.

A Brightly Lit Stage


How does a train eat?


It goes chew chew.



A blue mustang with the top down parked in a driveway lined with flowers. A cold glass of lemonade dripping onto the asphalt. The glistening blue water filling the pool. A white French door opens from the kitchen a woman in a green dress steps onto the patio. She places a platter of teacups and finger sandwiches onto the wicker table and sits in the matching chair. The wooden gate opens to her left and she looks over her shoulder, expecting company. A man in a cream-colored suit and lavender shirt walks through with his coat over his shoulder. He smiles in the corner of his mouth at her and she stands and takes a step backward- cutting from the frame as she falls into the pool. The smile widens to his eyes and he runs to leap in after her. They tumble ever downward, impossibly deep for a common swimming pool.

An open marble doorway suddenly rushes up to meet them and they step onto the tile flooring, completely dry and presentable – the pool water and rushing wind seeming to have had no affect.

I know what you’re thinking, really, I do. When I was told to record this story I was skeptical. It seems so fantastical that it’s almost – unbelievable. However, dear reader, I can assure you that I am a reliable narrator and that this account is completely factual. My advice is to not worry so much and just sit back and as the cliche goes, “enjoy the ride”.

“Maya, Charlie – so glad you could join us this evening,” the voice comes from a tuxedoed man off to their right who presents them a silver plate supporting two champagne glasses. Charlie takes the two glasses and passes one to Maya at the same moment she takes his arm and they follow a rapidly unfurling green carpet in front of them. After many minutes of walking the two share a furtively loving glance and step out onto a vast, wooden stage from the right wing. An interlaced grid of faces look up at them- conversations halted, phones fallen to laps, babies cheeks dry. Have you ever seen an audience like that? An audience so completely enveloped by the scene unfolding in front of them that they become completely unaware of themselves self? No? Yeah, me neither. Charlie sits at the grand piano as Maya climbs a ladder to sit on a swinging bench, high off the stage.

Now this is where things get tricky, try to keep up. Oh here, this tip will help: try to imagine these character blurbs as if you’re watching through a camera lens – you know, the one that swings and pans around that they use for films. It’s like you’re tracking different characters who may be of great importance or maybe they are completely insignificant. Either way, it provides different viewpoints. Now pay attention.

Following the show, the couple is met by adoring audience members in the opulently decorated lobby. You are pushed to the back as fans more rabid than you elbow ever forward as if physical closeness to the pair is all that is required to share in their success. You watch Charlie throw back his head in laughter and Maya cover her mouth in mock surprise. Soft heel clicks on the marble flooring and the calling out of men’s voices to their wandering wives. You push out the double gold-gilded doors to the cobblestoned courtyard. Snow quickly coats your hair and shoulders as you hurry to unlock your small, brown flatbed truck.

You push towards Maya and Charlie, elbowing people who clearly don’t want it as much as you do. Your hands push open into the open space just in front of them, close enough to smell Charlie’s cologne and to hear the delicate swish of Maya’s silk dress. Someone tells a raunchy story and Charlie throws back his head in laughter and Maya covers her mouth in mock surprise. You shake their hands politely and compliment them on yet another incredible show. Feminine eyes glaze over to either side of you as Charlie begins to tell a story about their first performance together. You lose focus and are slowly cajoled into the back of the crowd by people who apparently want it more than you do. You push open the heavy door where the fresh snow rushes down to meet you and see a small, brown flatbed truck pulling away from the curb. Your heel slips into a crack between cobblestones causing you to fall onto your knees.

After the show, you head towards the concession stand where you purchase a large bouquet of pink candy floss. You pull webs off and eat while you watch the hordes surrounding the performers with amusement. What were their names again? You can’t remember. Too many shows in too few nights but the one thing that remains the same- candy floss. That and the crazed fans; always eager to observe, to please and to be viewed. A woman pushes past you to reach the stairs to your left, most likely hoping for a better view of the show-ponied duo. After a few more moments of watching, you push open the gold-plated door and see a woman fall to her knees- puncturing the white lace blanket of snow.

Well I hope that little segment wasn’t so bad for you dear reader, I really did try to make myself clear but critics have said that my ideas are too runny and messy to be held on a page. That’s why I’m providing this commentary, see? I’m trying to be generous and kind and to make sure that you get “it”.

Maya and Charlie make their exit through the wooden, backstage doors and stroll toward a gently bubbling fountain in the center of the cobblestoned street. They perch on the lip, resting their feet on a small mound of snow. “You were incredible tonight,” Maya says, leaning in towards Charlie. “The black and white keys are nothing without the painted rainbow of your voice, my love,” Charlie responds and places a soft kiss in Maya’s snowflake-laden hair.

“Charlie, I know you were hesitant but I am very glad we decided to do this show. I could see it in the audience’s eyes that they needed it.”

“I agree completely, I just worry about how much it takes out of you. You are stunningly talented and watching you question that… well, it just darkens the softest corners of my heart.”

“I know sweetie, I know. I am working on it.”

“I’m so glad to hear that. We just can’t lose you, Magnificent Maya, we just can’t – the last time was much too close for comfort.”

“I know, I know. I really am trying”

Charlie smiles and leans in to delicately kiss her cheek.

Maya’s dimples deepen and she asks, “Where to next?”

“Let’s go home.”

Maya smiles and nods, gripping Charlie’s hand tighter as the pair fall backward into the shallow base of the fountain. The two fall much deeper than the meager inches of the ceramic fountain, leaving the shining layer of copper undisturbed in their wake.

Sunlight cuts through the water of a surface they are rapidly falling towards. A surface quite far from the one they tackled minutes before. The world inverts and they walk out of the sea, hot grains of sand like a thousand tiny needles on their feet. The beach is devoid of beach towels and neon swimsuits and people altogether. Water drips from them like the shedding of a second skin. Warm sun licks their skin similar to a dog welcoming a much-beloved owner home after a long trip. They ascend the concrete steps to a waiting blue mustang with the top down. Yes, it’s the same Mustang that was in their driveway when they fell through their pool. “How’d it get to the beach?”, you might ask. At this point, I would like to remind you of what I suggested earlier- to worry less and “enjoy the ride”.

They drive along the coast on a highway seemingly deserted until they reach a small street past a white wooden fence. They turn into the flower-lined driveway of a small yellow house. Charlie shuts off the car and goes around to open the passenger side door. Maya takes his outstretched hand and the pair head up towards the bright red front door together.

Okay, so you know how I swore to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God? Oh wait, no that was at my court hearing last Wednesday. Well, either way, I said I was being factual. So maybe I wasn’t being completely honest with you, reader and I am truly sorry about that, truly I am. But maybe people can’t actually travel through water but the truth is that it’s not about the water. Maybe it’s about the travel and the weightlessness and the purity of it all. Or maybe it’s about nothing at all.