it's all candles and gingham here, little light

i worry i may be too old-souled for blogging. am i supposed to write more coherent entries that address daily issues? because that's what i do for a living, and i don't want to do that in my spare time. so there you go, non-existent blog readers - you will be receiving no doses of reality from this girl.
well, maybe just a little:
i'm obsessing over alaska. i browse journalismjobs.com daily for jobs in alaska, then proceed to spend way too much time googling images of alaska. i am convinced i will end up there, complete with candles in my windows and grungy checkered table cloths.
will this be me, my entire life? chasing some combination of myself from the past and conceived notions of the future until i wilt somewhere in the middle?
on a lighter note, my ex and i have been exchanging e-mails and it's nice to know we can have a functional friendship after having an extremely fucked up relationship.
or was that all in my head? were we normal, swinging on tree branches and writing love notes in women's studies classes? when did those alleged battles happen?

excuse me sir, you've lost your vegan cheesesteak

i measure time in letters about first loves and red sweaters, the worn-down soap, in messy beginnings of ends. i do not measure time in yarn, seconds or furrowed eyebrows.
have i changed since i graduated from college three years ago? certainly i've had more conversations over vegan cheesesteaks, more fireflies have been caught and let go. but have i changed? have i grown more cautious? three years ago, i hopped in my car and drove across the country to a town of 1200, where the mountains were always within sight and i didn't finger the windowpane, i flew.
these days, i dance. we dance. Pavement plays in the living room and the wind swings my arms back and forth. but i've got to piece my wings back together again. i've got to smash fists through windows and land gracefully in the grass.