“I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn’t quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”
― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar
A dominant theme this month is flowers. On the first of the month, I had a surreal night with a sexy man frolicking in a field of wild flowers and fireflies and literally discussing the meaning of life. It felt like a scene from a teen movie. We even jumped a fence to get to this field. It was just a moment as he promptly left for a motorcycle cross country trip and frankly, his free-spirited approach to life scares me. I’m looking for roots, you know? Fear was another dominant theme in June. I cried on top of a skyscraper just before rappelling down.
For a couple of weeks I dated a man who brought me flowers every time we saw each other. And though I had just mentioned in this blog post that receiving flowers was outside the threshold of enjoyment for my mom, I found receiving flowers every single time I saw someone was outside my threshold. After saying goodbye and feeling foolish citing that he was too romantic for me, I stopped dating and sought romance in solitude and loving moments with friends.
I visited Houston and had a museum date with my best friend whom I hadn’t seen since New Year’s. We relived our past trips to Paris and Marfa through the current exhibits at the museum and over crepes.
I ended the month just as I started it, in a field of wildflowers. Instead of with a sexy man on private property, it was with just north of Italy, Texas with Anita and Ashley. After photographing the flowers, the three of us visited Dallas and crashed Treavor’s studio apartment for a night.
Not depicted on Instagram is a budding crush on a friend. I know. I’m incorrigible. Also not depicted, a romantic stroll in a park with Treavor while holding hands. We like to joke that it would be too easy if he liked women. The search would be over!