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summer ta-da! list;

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listen to cape cod kwassa kwassa while at cape cod.

take millie, the bike, down to the cape.

buzz my head. oh whoops. did that.

plan epic road trip.  (any good books i should download on my kindle for the trip? is it sad that this is my main concern?)**

concerts concerts concerts. regina spektor. the kooks. cake. two door cinema club. santigold. jukebox the ghost. laura marling.

take trapeze classes.

more swing and contra dancing.

rock climbing at m.i.t.

visit vermont= i’ve officially been to all of the northeastern states. and caused mayhem in all of them.
(that time i fell off crotched mountain in new hampshire. that time i bought chocolate wine at a quidditch retreat in maine. that time i pretended i dated someone who went to brown in rhode island. that time i forged an unlikely friendship with a boston squirrel.)

lavender lemonade + sangria drinking on the stoop. on the beach. on the curb. in a boat. in a house. in a tree. sam i am, i love sangria and lemonade. yeah.

decaffeinate myself (lolwhoops @ my iced turkish coffee + tweaking out hardcore at wired puppy).

pet all the bostonian puppies. all of them.  i think i’ve said “sorry to interrupt you, but i have to pet this dog really quick” to a friend at least 12 times. i even did that in the middle of a date. so, this is a very possible goal.

*ta-da! lists, like to-do lists but without all the dread! trademark mackenzie filson 2007-2012.

** also, if you’d like to do a guest post while i am in the midst of my travels down the east coast it would be much appreciated! email me at mackenzie{dot}filson{at}gmail{dot}com for info.

{berets and bongos} 67;

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“ ‘i feel there is an angel in me’ she’d say
‘whom I am
constantly shocking”

-lawrence ferlinghetti.

it’s official;

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yes, lady-friends and man-friends, it is true.

on june 28th, i will be embarking on a trip of my dreamz~*

no lie, only i would find it dreamy to travel for three weeks on a bus (said my mother, to me, on the phone last night as i spoke to her about the prospects of taking baby-wipe showers on the train).

but haters gonna hate,  from massachusetts to florida i shall go. with my mustard-colored boots, a go-get-’em attitude, and (most likely) a frightening case of bus ride-induced  b.o.

the itinerary is as follows:

new york city:
june 28th-july 1st.= pretty libraries. street-performers. lush grasses to prance on and pet city puppies.

philly:
july 1st-4th= brewskis with my broskis, and smothering my little nephew with keeses.

washington, d.c.:
july 4th-10th= my two friends are subletting a place above georgetown cupcakes (score), and prancing abouts the district with maya.

durham, n.c.:
july 10th-13th= seeing my old homeland, exploring duke gardens (haven’t been there since i was a wee-little kenzie.)

charleston, s.c.:
july 13th-july 17th= drinking all the mimosas and wearing straw hats on the beach with staceface.

atlanta, ga:
july 18th-20th= no idea! which is the best part of any road trip. most likely eating peachy things.

gainesville, fl.:
july 20th-22nd= swing dancing ’til the early morning with my platonic soul mate, kelli +causing a general amount of ruckus.

orlando.:
until the end of august! yay! homeland! gonna swim in all the lakes and  eat all the oranges!

any advice? playlists? friendly truck/bus-drivers i could befriend along the way? people to eat things with? things to do in these cities? ways to make me smell like a flower at all times?

a maine itinerary;

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fall in love with maine.

resolve to move there immediately.

that is all, folks, for maine is quite the ladykiller.

edit: and yes, that is chocolate wine and sparklers….when in maine…?

{berets and bongos} 65;

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“i will come back to you, i swear i will;
and you will know me still.
i shall be only a little taller
than when i went.”

-edna st. vincent millay

goodbye girl, a playlist;

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it’s that time of the year again. or rather, time of the week for me.

i get that itch to get going. i’ve gotten to the point that i check bus fares before i check my phone or facebook notifications ($5 trips to nyc?! free rides to montreal?!) my head spins and my duffel bag (that i asked for for christmas. yes, i asked for a heavy duty luggage for christmas) peers at me in fear.

daydreaming about prospectively taking a two-week road trip by bus down the east coast (75% sure at this point! eep!). about what items in my apartment i could sell off to pay for bus tickets.  about the fact that my friend canceled on our plans for tonight and i immediately checked to see when the next train to rockport/manchester/gloucester/anywhere-by-the-ocean at all was for today.

i’ve primed myself for a disgusting amount of  bus-travel and baby-wipe showers by cutting even more hair off and by making this playlist for those of us who find wanderlust to be a daily concern.

whose friends usually preface any conversation with a “so, where are you exactly right now?”

who get giddy by the sight of a well-packed suitcase (rolled shirts to save space + a full kindle + mustard boots + johnson &  johnson’s lavender lotion).

who love dramatically and thoughtfully and wistfully peering out of the windows of buses/trains/cars/airplanes.

for those of us who still don’t know how to sit still.

spring, you are too kind;

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playground romps with the mir-cat.

eating kiwis (skin and all!) with my sensible shoes + favorite dress.

pre-thirty mile bike ride burrito + sangria (!!!)

fox socks out on the town.

statues getting festive.

mile twenty six of said bike ride. roomies on the tandem. fried dough stand ambiance.

prunes + kindle in the library. 21 going on 84 years old. just call me myrtle.

if bob ross was painting my dinner the other night, he’d call it “happy produce”.

…spring, you really are the best. keep on doing your thang.

a belated birthday;

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oh mylanta, guys. homegirl over here completely forgot to tell you guys about the ridiculous fun that was my 21st birthday party. if it were possible, i’d have everyday be halloween. ergo, i had a halloween costume party. in the beginning of march. i believe i called the facebook event “monster mash in march” yes. you read right. and yes, i made a playlist of every single version of “monster mash”. all six of them.


 there was much fun to be had. i made origami bats to hang from my ceiling. i also made lavender lemonade and “witches brew” (sangria. nomz.) and was so sidetracked by my lovely friend’s costumes (three blind mice.) and eating “fingers” (chocolate covered toffee) and “zombie cakes” (vegan earl grey cupcakes with green frosting and purple frosting.**) that i didn’t snap too many pictures of the shindig.

i obviously went as a character from my favorite show, the twilight zone (“ring-a-ding girl”is my homegirl. gotta love those plot-twists). and yes, the shower to get all of that white paint off was the most awkward shower of all. totally worth the fake lashes and minutes of my life it took to get black lipstick off of my eyebrows.

so this year, i will have had two days of halloween goodness. new goal:  2012 is the year of halloween. i’m shooting for at least two weeks worth of costuming and adding “fingers” to all of my food.

who’s with me? i’ll bring the white paint and lack of shame.
 
**i swear to jeebus, i am going to make the most ridiculous soccer mom ever. if you are wondering what my kids will be like, they will have lunches packed with “zombie cakes” and will most likely forget to wear pants. most likely to be seen sitting in trees, with a bushel of curly hair and a penchant for bad jokes.

selfies and foot pops;

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{both flats + mustard boots, timberlands (4lyf), dress, victoria’s secret via goodwill, jacket, h&m via goodwill, sweater and belt, unknown via goodwill.}

fact: i do not own a mirror. this usually makes getting dressed in the morning a very interesting experience. i usually walk out of my house wearing more than three colors, after straddling my bathtub and countertop to peer at the bathroom mirror to see if my outfit makes me look like i’m wearing a tilda swinton costume (no disrespect, tildy-tildz. you know i love you. )

but guys, i’m scared. i think the turd-o-meter went cray-cray when i snapped these little selfies in a second time around dressing room, since i usually never see what my outfits look like fully. i feel the need to make duck-faces in every reflective surface that i pass, put on a cake-face, and re-apply lip gloss (do people still wear lip gloss? i feel like this question explains a lot about me). can one (or six) selfie(s) really start a major downfall?


only time will tell. speaking of time, it’s time for me to put on some bonne bell lip gloss. it’s dr. pepper flavor.

{also, holla at the three people who told me i looked like the girl from the hunger games this week. i don’t agree with you, but you are the reason for the happy foot pop in these pictures. and holla at the unintentional red sox colors that i had on later that night at fenway. yes, that means i went to tasty burger. i have issues.}

dears;

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dear the bird and the bee pandora station, how do you know me so well? you played “kiss me”, “there she goes” , and you know that i secretly, and unironically like matchbox twenty and sugar ray? i think if it was possible to marry an internet radio station, i would’ve married you real hard by now. because who wouldn’t want to put a ring on a station that plays “follow you down”?

dear future man friend, just a quick note. if we’re already on the subject of marrying things real hard, i’ll be a puddle of estrogen and happiness and thoughts of flowers if you somehow find covers of hall and oates or the bee gees that i’ve never heard. i feel like i’ve found all of them. just a hint, if you find a cover of “how deep is your love?” played on a string quartet (and yes, i’ve heard the bird and the bee cover of it), you will get a baker’s dozen of brownie points (seewhatididthere?)

dear coconut water, why are you so popular? you taste like nasty sauce. water that has had off-brand cereal soaked in it. i don’t get why girls in yoga pants love you so much.

dear non-fiction creative writing class, i’m sorry i’ve been “that girl” this whole semester long. you know the type. right arm always in a flexed position due to hand-raising to give her opinion all the freaking time. doubling all the paper minimums on the pieces you have to read and critique for me. just being grossly nerdy in general. actually, no. i’m not sorry. i’ve never been the “writing 6.5 pages for a 7 page paper min.” kind of lady anyways. so, yeah. you guys can deal. i’m just going to sit off in the corner and clean my glasses.

dear bras, ahem, sports bras. after this feminist paper on the play lysistrata (which is sooooo good, by the way) i have to write this week, i wouldn’t be surprised if i started burning you all, stopped shaving my legs (oh wait, i already do this), and started tossing around phrases like “gender construct” casually in conversation. help?

dear world’s end, i kind of want to live near you forever. i’d spend my days lounging on your various stretches of grass. i’d pack a lot of picnics. i’d have at least ten bernese mountain dogs. and i’d probably start a magical dog municipality of sorts, and become queen of it. okay, i’ve thought about this a lot. i just really like you, okay?

dear shins, i am so so so sorry for the mistreatment you went through last weekend. contra dancing on thursday? salsa dancing on friday? renaissance dancing on saturday? i totally understand the majorly attractive limp i have developed. forgive me?

dear love life, you crack me up. really and truly. from lesbians nearly-proposing to me at train stations. and straight girls telling me they’d date me if i was a dude. to straight boys flinching at my key chain collection. and the fact that i have to carry a separate purse for just my keys. to people not believing my stories about my dating life. stay weird, love life. it’s like my dating life is a game of mad libs done by a group of drunks, their favorite words being “poop” and “rashes”. thanks for never getting boring.

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