I’ve never craved fame or notoriety. I’ve heard people express interest in receiving their “fifteen minutes of fame” and while I’m certainly not above craving affection I’ve never wished to be famous. I’m fine with leaving all of the stardom and headlines to my bestie, Taylor Swift. I’ve never cared much about those fifteen minutes in fact I’d gladly forfeit my turn in the spotlight for a few moments-a few Blair Waldorf moments. Between the kisses that consume my thoughts, the surprise flowers after photo shoots, the spontaneous romantic vacations and (of course) macaroons I can’t help but feel like I’m living my own Blair Waldorf fairytale.
As of late I’ve realized how difficult it is for me to express happiness as opposed to pain and suffering. When I am hurting I curl up in a coffee shop and buckle down with a mocha (or three) and just spill my heart onto my keyboard. I’ve been told this sort of writing resonates with people. I’ve been told you can feel my sadness when I spill that pain. I don’t think the same can be said in the happier times, during the fairytale moments I experience. I don’t feel vulnerable laying my sadness on the line…in fact by sharing sadness I feel empowered, I gain strength! Channeling pain into purpose has come to feel like a bit of a “calling” in my life. Happiness feels more sacred. Sharing my happiness feels raw and scary because when I’m sad and I share it I’m already at a low point and there is nothing you can strip from me. Yet, when I’m happy I feel the need to protect it. I feel the need to defend my happiness, to hide it because I have so much and I’m afraid that by allowing the world in that it will allow someone to destroy it. I have difficulty properly expressing joy in the manner I’ve learned to with pain. However, as a writer it’s so important to me to feel a range of emotions and the fact that I am unable to convey such a powerful, enchanting feeling bothers me. I find rawness intoxicating and I can’t help but believe that it is necessary to be raw on all levels if one ever hopes to capture life into words that others can relate to. I’m wrapped up in a fairytale, will you allow me to practice sharing it with you?
A guy I know articulated the feeling more eloquently than I am capable of expressing at this moment, “People say dreams can’t come true and fairytales aren’t real but fairytales are based on real lives, I know, because I am experiencing one right now”.
I can’t sum it up so simply, I can’t wrap up these feelings in a box and tie a bow around it. I can simply compare. I can simply toss around analogies until my mind is fully able to process the magic I’m experiencing. I’m having a Blair Waldorf moment.
I don’t have a penthouse on the Upper Eastside of Manhattan but rather a small room in an old townhouse with stained carpets and one bathroom that is mysteriously always under some sort of construction. I don’t have a Dorota to cater to my every wish but I have built a solid friendship with the pizza delivery boy from the Pagliacci’s down the street. My headband collection is pretty on par and what I lack in Manolo Blahniks I make up for in Valentino dreams. I don’t scheme too often but I have found myself blaring Better than Revenge on repeat on long car rides brainstorming sassy comments I could make towards negative girls (and then in the end deciding I’m better off not lowering myself to that level). I don’t have a Serena, in fact many times I worry that I’m the Serena. I don’t have a Chuck Bass. The one I’ve found myself consumed with doesn’t transform the New York City skyline but does make a bit of an impact on the one here in Seattle, he doesn’t wear purple scarves but he does wear some pretty cute cardigans. We’ve done our fair share of sipping champagne and coordinating outfits. I don’t have a Chuck Bass but I do have someone who makes my heart long to write sonnets and novels and love songs. It feels too soon, it sounds insane. I have a man that doesn’t make me feel like a stop along the way but like I am a destination worth waiting and worth working for. I’ve never felt this way before. I’m caught up in a world that feels so surreal but I think I’d like to stay in my delusional Blair Waldorf moment for a minute (or two) more.
Have you ever had a Blair Waldorf moment? What does your fairytale look/feel like?
Gossip Girl (;