In Which Eliza And Ella Write Telegrams and Meet Authors

Authors acted STOP Got books STOP Downton STOP Rain STOP Books dry STOP telegrams are awesome STOP

– This evening as recorded in telegram format by Eliza

(It’s after midnight, and we’re a giggly mess in the train home. I’m still riding a high after having gotten to meet Barry Goldblatt (who knew who I was!!), David Levithan (who remembered my school) and Stephanie Perkins (who recognized me!!). It’s been a wonderful day for living, and Eliza and I may look vaguely drunk, despite only having imbibed mango nectar.)

In Which Ella Falls in Love with Happiness

I have blisters on my feet, my eyes are seeing double, and I’m so tired I could fall asleep without a pillow on the kitchen’s tiled floor.

But none of that matters.

I had the most terribly perfect, horribly wonderful, and awfully amazing day today. There were books and there were parks and there was shopping and there was walking and there was modern art and there was meeting some of my literary idols. Libba Bray and I had a conversation so awesome that it nearly made me cry later on when I was walking back to the subway. On the train home, I figured out part of my novel that I had been struggling with and was suddenly struck by an idea for another book. And now, I’m in bed with my beloved laptop ready to relish the night and darkness before I go to sleep.

Every year, I have a few days like this, where nothing in the world goes wrong and everything just feels good. It doesn’t last, but, in a way, I don’t want it to. It wouldn’t be as lovely if everyday were perfect. It’d just be a monotony of joy. I want my happiness to be shocking, like ice water on a hot day or an unexpected present. And that’s what today was: a genuine surprise of wonderful.

But I am tired and babbling. My eyes keep drifting shut, and I feel the urge to hum a long, contented “mmhm” until I run out of breath. So I will. I’ll be just like a purring cat or a dog thumping his tail or a rabbit doing whatever weird happy thing rabbits do.

Mmhm. Happy.

And as always, you can also find me on tumblr at, if you’re into that kind of thing.

Ella and Madeline the Beloved Doll

When I was four, my uncle* gave me a soft doll with yarn hair that I named Madeline. Of course, everything I have from that era is named Madeline, but unlike the other stuffed animals and dolls, this Madeline has stuck around.

My mother would call her my “lovie,” which is her saccharine way of referring to an object that a small child latches onto and sleeps with. Unlike most eighteen-year-olds, I still sleep with mine…and I have a habit of carrying her around with me in the house.

It didn’t occur to me until about ten minutes ago that still holding your doll while watching movies, reading, doing homework, eating, or using the computer, et cetera is odd behavior for someone my age. It’s just something that I’ve always automatically done. I keep her on my bed, and whenever I’m in my room, I pick her up and start carrying her around with me or holding her as I do something. And depending on how much activity the next thing I’m going to do requires, I’ll keep her with me.

It’s not like I ever take her out of the house or keep her with me in situations that would be awkward or inappropriate. I just like having her with me. She feels like happiness and safety, sort of like a more stationary and willing cat. And ultimately, it doesn’t matter how silly it is for someone my age to have, sleep with, or carry around a doll, it makes me content without causing harm, so I’m sticking with it.

I’m curious: Do you still have a “lovie,” and if so what do you do with it?

Here’s a very old picture of Madeline hanging out with Anastasia’s dog. They’re close friends.

In other news, Pippa is currently speaking incredibly loudly on video chat and using one of her crutches as a machine gun. I’d ask, but after sixteen and a half years of living with the girl, I’ve come to realize that I really just don’t want to know.

It’s probably a reference to annoyed she is with the Debussey I’m blasting.

*This is the same uncle that died last year. I am so happy that I told him how much this gift has meant to me before he passed away. Madeline is honestly the best present I have and probably will ever receive.

On Happiness and The King’s Speech

I’ve been waiting to buy The King’s Speech from iTunes for months and months and months. And by months I mean since I first saw it on January 28th. (I wrote about it here.) It’s British, and it’s historic, and it has World War Two, and it has amazing actors, and I love it. Love it, love it, love it.

Tonight, I’m going to get to watch it while sitting on the couch with my parents, eating popcorn. It will make me enormously happy. It will be the perfect ending to a day filled with school work.

Earth Day

It’s not everyday that you can say that you built a huge gavel out of paper towel rolls, newspaper, and soda bottles. Neither can you say that your beautifully made Gavel of Environmental Justice was used to smash an un-environmentally friendly factory to bits. I love Earth Day in my government small learning community.

In Which I Badly Write Notes and Cecelia Decides to Change my Future

Today when I opened my binder to start studying some Supreme Court cases for a quiz I have tomorrow, I found some notes that I had been passing back and forth with people in class. The best one was with Cecelia.

I must have gotten very bored because the note is full of simplistic, oddly spaced, and very poorly written musings.

One day, I will live in a house in D.C., Boston, or on the Cape and write. It will be lovely.

I will also have cats, and you will be welcome to visit.

I will eat lots of tofu and lentils. There will also be chocolate cheesecake.

There will always be orange juice in the refrigerator, and I will have a place to sit outside without bees.

And despite the fact that the note is very bad, it is a pretty accurate reflection of some of my wishes. I take a great deal of comfort in being hopeful about the future.

Then, because Cecelia is Cecelia, she ripped the paper out of my hands and modified it. It now reads:

One day, I will live in a housemilk carton in D.C.Mumbai, BostonBirmingham, or on the CapeGanges and write. It will be lovely.

I will also have catsducks, and you will be welcome to visitroast them.

I will eat lots of tofubeef and lentilswurst. There will also be chocolate liver cheesecake.

There will always be orange juiceblood in the refrigerator, and I will have a place to sit outside without beessunshine.

It’s things like this that make me feel so blessed to have friends. After all, not anyone will turn your future plans into a version of Mad-Libs, be patient with your morning shenanigans the way Tal does, answer your strange questions the way Audrey does, sing your name whenever you walk into the room the way Clara does, or make you smile when you’re crying the way Lily does. (I really could go on and on.)

In related news, when I was picking out a dress to wear this morning, I remembered that Alice and I have two identical dresses that we each purchased independently. I think this is a sign that we have very good taste in fashion. Well, either that or we’re very slowly going to morph into the same person.