anaïs escobar's parents named her after anaïs nin and were still shocked when she turned out to be a writer.
contact if you'd like her to write for your publication.


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Monday, February 8
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“Why is the house always on fire, but nobody seems to notice it? Don’t unhappy homes always seem like that? Aren’t people always trying to ignore it?”
- Roger Ebert on Synecdoche, New York.

(via synecdoche)

“Why is the house always on fire, but nobody seems to notice it? Don’t unhappy homes always seem like that? Aren’t people always trying to ignore it?”

- Roger Ebert on Synecdoche, New York.

(via synecdoche)

Tags: love this SUCK IT BRVTALBRODEO
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reblogged via synecdoche
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we may never never meet again, on that bumpy road to love but i’ll always, always keep the memory of the way you hold your knife, the way we danced till three, the way you changed my life, no, they can’t take that away from me.

we may never never meet again, on that bumpy road to love but i’ll always, always keep the memory of the way you hold your knife, the way we danced till three, the way you changed my life, no, they can’t take that away from me.

Tags: joe dimaggio marilyn monroe gershwin of course
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They’re all like, ‘Hey! Leave your generic girlfriend for me, a generic girl who is different because I wear Chucks sometimes! But they’re clean Chucks! I’m not too out there, I swear!’
— Me on Taylor Swift’s song topics
Tags: old quote needed to be reiterated
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reblogged via chels
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quiet monday.

quiet monday.

Tags: WITH LOST THIS SHOW WILL BE THE DEATH OF ME
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My parents met at my aunt’s wedding, that is, my dad’s little sister. Somehow because of family friends in common, my mom ended up being a bridesmaid because in the very late 1970s, there were still not so many Cuban families in South Florida and they all seemed to know each other, having fled in the 1960s on airplanes as opposed to the rafts now seen on tv, just before the Mariel boatlifts that brought a mass exodus of Cubans to the United States. My mom came to the United States from Cuba when she was little, four or five, with my grandparents and they settled in the middle of the country, Indiana, where they experienced their first winter in a non-tropical climate. My grandpa’s first job in this country was chopping logs in the snow. They grew used to the weather and made a home, falling in love with this new country they found themselves in. My dad was also born in Cuba but left as a child, growing up in Spain and for a while in Mexico. Somehow both of their families found themselves in Florida almost twenty years later, assimilated into middle class America and sharing similar histories. The world is small.

The wedding was at the Fontainebleau in Miami Beach. My dad, having been out of town for a while, was not a groomsman but he sat near the front of the hall during the ceremony. He told me that he noticed my mom when she stood at the altar during the ceremony but thought she was too young, 21 or so at the time (he was 30 or so). His eye kept drifting to her throughout the night as she danced with other men and laughed with her friends. The younger members of the reception drifted out towards the pool, including the bride and groom, and they drank more champagne on a balmy May night. 

My mom told me she caught my dad looking at her and winked just before she jumped into the pool still in her bridesmaid dress. Some of the wedding party followed while the rest of them laughed and watched from the edge of the pool. My dad reached a hand out to help my mom out of the pool and lifted her out. He gave her his tuxedo jacket and they talked quietly as they went back inside. My grandma caught sight of my mom’s soaking wet dress and smeared makeup and fumed. My parents talked quietly at the edge of the dance floor, laughing at the puddle she was making with her wet dress. With her veil tipsily askew on her red-haired curls, my aunt tossed the bouquet and it landed in my mom’s hands without effort. They laughed about it awkwardly and too loudly, the way you do when you first meet someone. She left with flowers beginning to wilt, he left with her phone number. 

They dated and got married a year and a half later. She now remembers that she was nursing a broken heart from her first love around that time and he recalls being charmed but unsure about commitment. They almost divorced a few years later, had their one child, me, and finally did divorce twenty years after meeting. They are still good friends and are remarried or involved with other people now. Both my mom and dad have told me my entire life, especially since they got divorced, to never settle for anyone less than who you are madly, passionately in love with, to live my life and go to college and know who I am and do the things I want to do and be independent but to never settle for anything other than that person who would kiss your spleen if he had the chance. They never loved each other like that.

But damn did they meet cute.

My parents met at my aunt’s wedding, that is, my dad’s little sister. Somehow because of family friends in common, my mom ended up being a bridesmaid because in the very late 1970s, there were still not so many Cuban families in South Florida and they all seemed to know each other, having fled in the 1960s on airplanes as opposed to the rafts now seen on tv, just before the Mariel boatlifts that brought a mass exodus of Cubans to the United States. My mom came to the United States from Cuba when she was little, four or five, with my grandparents and they settled in the middle of the country, Indiana, where they experienced their first winter in a non-tropical climate. My grandpa’s first job in this country was chopping logs in the snow. They grew used to the weather and made a home, falling in love with this new country they found themselves in. My dad was also born in Cuba but left as a child, growing up in Spain and for a while in Mexico. Somehow both of their families found themselves in Florida almost twenty years later, assimilated into middle class America and sharing similar histories. The world is small.

The wedding was at the Fontainebleau in Miami Beach. My dad, having been out of town for a while, was not a groomsman but he sat near the front of the hall during the ceremony. He told me that he noticed my mom when she stood at the altar during the ceremony but thought she was too young, 21 or so at the time (he was 30 or so). His eye kept drifting to her throughout the night as she danced with other men and laughed with her friends. The younger members of the reception drifted out towards the pool, including the bride and groom, and they drank more champagne on a balmy May night.

My mom told me she caught my dad looking at her and winked just before she jumped into the pool still in her bridesmaid dress. Some of the wedding party followed while the rest of them laughed and watched from the edge of the pool. My dad reached a hand out to help my mom out of the pool and lifted her out. He gave her his tuxedo jacket and they talked quietly as they went back inside. My grandma caught sight of my mom’s soaking wet dress and smeared makeup and fumed. My parents talked quietly at the edge of the dance floor, laughing at the puddle she was making with her wet dress. With her veil tipsily askew on her red-haired curls, my aunt tossed the bouquet and it landed in my mom’s hands without effort. They laughed about it awkwardly and too loudly, the way you do when you first meet someone. She left with flowers beginning to wilt, he left with her phone number.

They dated and got married a year and a half later. She now remembers that she was nursing a broken heart from her first love around that time and he recalls being charmed but unsure about commitment. They almost divorced a few years later, had their one child, me, and finally did divorce twenty years after meeting. They are still good friends and are remarried or involved with other people now. Both my mom and dad have told me my entire life, especially since they got divorced, to never settle for anyone less than who you are madly, passionately in love with, to live my life and go to college and know who I am and do the things I want to do and be independent but to never settle for anything other than that person who would kiss your spleen if he had the chance. They never loved each other like that.

But damn did they meet cute.

Tags: writing family parents wedding mom dad
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reblogged via thefeeling
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favorite.

favorite.

Tags: also dude he was the STEPFATHER classic lost john locke
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Sunday, February 7
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[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

The Cure/Lovesong

Tags: music the cure favorite gt
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I'm probably the last asshole in the world to start watching Lost.

Gabe (who has seen all of it) and I borrowed the first season on dvd from his friend and we (especially me, while he was at work) watched it all in a few days and loved it. He would be like, “babe, do you want to watch ____________?” and I’d be like “shut up, let’s watch another episode of Lost”. So I bought seasons 2 and 3 on dvd and I’m watching, watching, watching so eagerly. I’ve been spoiled a little bit but some of the things Gabe and others have mentioned that happen later on seem so fucking surreal that I can’t even imagine how they will happen. Needless to say, I’m now a fan.

Although, I mean, is Kate going to die? Because she’s really fucking annoying.

Tags: lost so late to the party where is this party?
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michelledeluca:

Seeing as the Mets plan on sucking, I would appreciate them signing Jon Hamm - he can’t be any worse than the rest of the team (he was decent in the celeb game) and he would look a heluva lot better.

Look at that. Two of my newfound interests together at last. JON HAMM + BASEBALL = AMERICA.

michelledeluca:

Seeing as the Mets plan on sucking, I would appreciate them signing Jon Hamm - he can’t be any worse than the rest of the team (he was decent in the celeb game) and he would look a heluva lot better.

Look at that. Two of my newfound interests together at last. JON HAMM + BASEBALL = AMERICA.

Tags: even though he is a bit too white for me baseball jon hamm
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reblogged via michelledeluca
Friday, February 5
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reblogged via giantsquidandlocomotives
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i don’t like that surfin’ shit. rock and roll’s been going down hill ever since buddy holly died. -american graffiti

i don’t like that surfin’ shit. rock and roll’s been going down hill ever since buddy holly died. -american graffiti

Tags: waylon jennings buddy holly american graffiti
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Thursday, February 4
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(via synecdoche)

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reblogged via synecdoche
Permalink Tags: ugh i have my period ok DELISH it wouldn't harden duh
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