“If I could find a real-life place that’d make me feel like Tiffany’s, then – then I’d buy some furniture and give the cat a name!”–Holly Golightly, “Breakfast at Tiffany’s”

It’s raining today. I love the rain. Even when it gets me wet. But it give me such a comfortable feeling. Like snow. Snow itself is wet and sometimes icky, especially when you land in a whole pile of it, but when it lands in perfect, unique flakes upon your cheek, or piles up outside your window, it gives such a wonderful cozy feeling. And that’s how I’m feeling right now.

I’ve been feeling kind of restless lately, and I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because I have so many things to do. Research paper outline, a speech, various scattered tests–it’s like the hedge in “Over the Hedge.” “It never ends!…It never ends that way too!” There is literally no end in sight. The semester will be over in a month, though, and I guess that’s an end of sorts. And in three weeks I will be HOME! I’ll get to see the parental units again, and the sibling-creature, and the dog of many colors, but best of all, I’ll get to see Strawberry Shortcake and Sibyl and Trillby. This is the longest I’ve gone without seeing any of them, and it makes me so happy to know that in three weeks I’ll be able to talk to them, live and in person!

But still the mood remains. It’s sort of a mix of Holly Golightly’s mean reds and the blues. It’s the purples. In fact, I’ve been thinking a lot about Holly Golightly lately. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because “Moon River” has been stuck in my head for the past week. But seriously, Holly Golightly, for all her flaws, really did have a lot figured out: Nothing very bad could ever happen in Tiffany’s. It’s true. I couldn’t imagine it. It would mean the end of the world if something did. I don’t know if I have my own version of Tiffany’s yet. Maybe the library. The very best library in the whole world, the library I visit practically every day of summer. Nothing very bad could ever happen to you there. Although I do seem to recall someone being arrested there a couple summers ago…hmm…

But anyway, the mean reds. What are the mean reds, you ask? Well, I’ll tell you, but you really should watch “Breakfast at Tiffany’s”. I didn’t see it until this summer and it is lovely. From Holly herself:

Holly Golightly: You know those days when you get the mean reds?
Paul Varjak: The mean reds, you mean like the blues?
Holly Golightly: No. The blues are because you’re getting fat and maybe it’s been raining too long, you’re just sad that’s all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you’re afraid and you don’t know what you’re afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling?
Paul Varjak: Sure.
Holly Golightly: Well, when I get it the only thing that does any good is to jump in a cab and go to Tiffany’s. Calms me down right away. The quietness and the proud look of it; nothing very bad could happen to you there. If I could find a real-life place that’d make me feel like Tiffany’s, then – then I’d buy some furniture and give the cat a name!

I’m not just stressed–my lips aren’t peeling enough for that. I feel like something is just behind me, looming over my shoulder, only I’m not quite sure what it is, or how I’m going to deal with it when it finally decides to reveal itself. Right now, it just feels like I’m fighting the monster in the dark, trying to keep it at bay until I can find the light switch and see what it looks like. This is where patience and trust comes into play. I’m just going to have to go with it. And while I go with it, here is one of the best things about “Breakfast at Tiffany’s”.

Following Moon River,


“Goethe’s final words: “More light.” Ever since we crawled out of that primordial slime, that’s been our unifying cry: “More light.” Sunlight. Torchlight. Candlight. Neon. Incandescent. Lights that banish the darkness from our caves, to illuminate our roads, the insides of our refrigerators. Big floods for the night games at Soldier’s field. Little tiny flashlight for those books we read under the covers when we’re supposed to be asleep. Light is more than watts and footcandles. Light is metaphor. Thy word is a lamp unto my feet. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom Lead Thou me on! The night is dark, and I am far from home- Lead Thou me on! Arise, shine, for thy light has come. Light is knowledge. Light is life. Light is light.” –Chris Stevens, “Northern Exposure


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