“You’ll be fine. You’re 25. Feeling unsure and lost is part of your path. Don’t avoid it. See what those feelings are showing you and use it. Take a breath. You’ll be okay. Even if you don’t feel okay all the time.”—Louis CK (via psych-facts)
“So what’s your doll’s name?” Boo asked me.
“Barbie,” I said. “All their names are Barbie.”
“I see,” she said. “Well, I’d think that would get boring, everyone having the same name.”
I thought about this, then said, “Okay, then her name is Sabrina.”
"Well, that’s a very nice name," Boo said. I remember she was baking bread, kneading the dough between her thick fingers. "What does she do?"
“Do?” I said.
“Yes.” She flipped the dough over and started in on it from the other side. “What
does she do?”
“She goes out with Ken,” I said.
“And what else?”
“She goes to parties,” I said slowly. “And shopping.”
“Oh,” Boo said, nodding.
“She can’t work?”
“She doesn’t have to work,” I said.
“Because she’s Barbie.”
“I hate to tell you, Caitlin, but somebody has to make payments on that town house
and the Corvette,”
Boo said cheerfully. “Unless Barbie has a lot of family money.”
I considered this while I put on Ken’s pants.
Boo started pushing the dough into a pan, smoothing it with her hand over the top.
“You know what I think, Caitlin?” Her voice was soft and nice, the way she always spoke to me.
“I think your Barbie can go shopping, and go out with Ken, and also have a productive and satisfying career of her own.” She opened the oven and slid in the bread pan, adjusting its position on the rack.
“But what can she do?” My mother didn’t work and spent her time cleaning the house and going to PTA.
I couldn’t imagine Barbie, whose most casual outfit had sequins and go-go boots, doing such things.
Boo came over and plopped right down beside me. I always rememberher being on my level; she’d sit on the edge of the sandbox, or lie across her bed with me and Cass as we listened to
“Well,” she said thoughtfully, picking up Ken and examining his perfect physique.
“What do you want to
do when you grow up?”
I remember this moment so well; I can still see Boo sitting there on the floor, cross-legged, holding my Ken and watching my face as she tried to make me see that between my mother’s
PTA and Boo’s strange ways there was a middle ground that began here with my Barbie, Sab-rina, and led right to me.
“Well,” I said abruptly, “I want to be in advertising.” I have no idea where this came from.
“Advertising,” Boo repeated, nodding. “Okay. Advertising it is. So Sabrina has to go to work every day, coming up with ideas for commercials and things like that.”
“She works in an office,” I went on. “Sometimes she has to work late.”
“Sure she does,” Boo said. “It’s hard to get ahead. Even if you’re Barbie.”
“Because she wants to get promoted,” I added. “So she can pay off the town house.
And the Corvette.”
“Very responsible of her,” Boo said.
“Can she be divorced?” I asked. “And famous for her commercials
“She can be anything,” Boo told me, and this is what I remember most, her freckled face so solemn, as if she knew she was the first to tell me. “And so can you.”
honestly a good partner isn’t necessarily someone who loves the exact same things you love but rather someone who is willing to listen to you ramble on and on about a particular subject that you’re passionate about even if they have little to no interest in it
It’s scary to find someone that makes you happy. You start giving them all of your attention because they’re what makes you forget everything bad that’s going on in your life. They’re the first person you want to talk to in the morning and the last one before you sleep just so you can start and end your day with a smile. It all sounds great to have that someone, but it’s scary to think about how easily they could just leave and take that happiness away too when they go.