accidental flares of love burst through the atmosphere

I figured everything out, and then I met Gillian Anderson

It's been so long since I've felt like writing and today I'm worried that I might never stop. I try not to use the word EPIC because it's so common now that the meaning has become diluted, but the past 4 days were something special. Epic. Something came over me on Friday night. We went to see a comedy show and ended up at 1642. I took deep breaths; the smell of that place always affects me and I'm not sure why. After one round we were closing our tabs and finding tattoo parlors that were open until 2am. I'm not sure why it was so NECESSARY that I did it that night, but it just felt right. We walked in and the American Beauty album by the Grateful Dead was playing, and my favorite part of Candyman - 3:10 in- floated through the room as soon as the needle touched my skin. The pain was a relief in a weird way ; I've had something stuck inside me that very desperately needed to come out but was waiting for the right opportunity. The tattoo says excelsior and is on my inner arm and I LOVE IT. I've wanted a half-sleeve for years and I think this will be the beginning of it. I'm planning on asking the most important people in my life to draw flowers, and I'll get each one tattooed until I have a garden all the way up the inside of my arm.

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Saturday turned into a small but necessary therapy session by the pool with Lily and Cindy. It's comforting to know that we all come from similar emotional places, even if the lives we lead are different. That evening, pasta was made and wine was consumed and I laughed so hard with Lily, Cindy, and Rachel that I gave myself a headache. Sunday Cindy and I wandered all around LA; we stopped on La Brea and then went all the way to Highland Park to photograph a couple murals, and then went to Silverlake for food and a very long stairway in very poor lighting.

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If you know me even a teeny tiny bit, you've probably discovered what an embarrassing little X-Files fangirl I am; it's been A Thing for about 15 years. Gillian auctioned off 2 meet & greets with tickets to her taping of The Tonight Show on eBay for Neurofibromatosis, and Cindy decided that we should bid on them just as the auctions were ending. I think the X-Files reunion panel at SDCC being that day REALLY worked in our favor; everyone in Southern California was there so no one could make outrageous bids! Cindy sent me the screenshot of her winning bid and I promptly started crying, lol. Some things will never change.

I don't know what I was expecting, but she was just so...wonderful. She was so excited when she came up to us, and pulled us into her dressing room after we took a couple photos when someone from NBC tried to ask us to leave. It was only supposed to last 15 minutes but she let us stay for half an hour while we chatted. She wanted to know about all of us. We talked about my sketches, and she wrote down something that I said in her phone ("If I don't write it down, I WILL NOT remember") so that she could send it to her daughter, who is also an artist. We chatted about Tom Waits; she asked me if I had heard Scarlett Johansson's cover album of his songs and I felt like I was talking to a close friend. She said she was going to go to Star Wars instead of Starbucks and when her dressing room phone rang she answered it in a goofy little cartoon voice. She flipped through my copy of the 1996 XF Rolling Stone before she signed it and laughed about the centerfold. She hugged us goodbye and I couldn't have asked for more.

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I can't explain how much I adore this person. She is such lovely little creature in such a big way. Jay Leno told her she was his most censored guest, bahaha. She is warm and brilliant and feisty and forgetful and her laugh is contagious. She's always been someone worth respecting, and my 12 year old self (hell, my 26 year old self) idolized her. People like her have always inspired me because they're relatable even though they are so unique. There is something in her voice that comes out when she gives interviews or meets fans or writes little messages on her website, and for whatever reason it makes me work harder to do great things. I get what she's giving, yaknowwhatImean?

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I want to explain something about these pictures. Sometimes I feel awkward when I post them, like I shouldn't be putting up photos that make it seem like I think I'm a model or something. I'm not of "model" proportion and I don't want to seem like I'm full of myself. And then I realized this very, very important thing: if I think I'm beautiful (and lately I'm so happy that I feel more beautiful than ever before), then I can send out a big FUCK YOU AND FUCK YOU TOO and post all of the beautiful happy photos that I want. They're not hurting anybody. I AM a model; I am a model for my own life and that's it. I don't want to be anything else. I go on adventures to great places, and I have the most beautiful friends that like taking photos and having photos taken. I can't believe I let myself think, for even one minute, that I should feel bad about sharing that.

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(Except I wish I wasn't wearing the same pair of pants in all of these pictures! I do laundry and wear clean clothes, I promise)

I've met so many lovely people lately and I just want to tell everyone that I'm glad you're here. I mean it.

Melatonin-fueled white girl problems

You: Part 4