Incandescently.

I feel slightly more settled tonight for no obvious reason, though I think spending all day in the sun helped. Walking all day in the sun leaves me tired all the way through, but in a contented way.

I want to be in love with someone who turns me into the person that I can be. My dad told me today about a little girl he saw who reminded him irresistibly of me—a fearless, blonde toddler with a big vocabulary and a bright smile and a hunger for everything. I want to be fearless like I was when I was small. I want to keep feeding my curious spirit as long as I’m alive. I want to be my best self, someone I haven’t met yet. I want someone who can draw me out when I am unnecessarily cautious and egg me on when I hit my stride. I want someone I want to impress.

I want to lie on a bed with tangled sheets and a boy and a map—an old Rand McNally road map or a National Geographic fold-out. And I will say, “Have you ever been to _________?” You know I want to go to England and Scotland and Wales, and also Germany, Poland, the Czech Republic, Denmark, Belgium, the Netherlands, Croatia, Montenegro, France, Austria—all around. Vancouver. Israel, Jordan, Turkey, Greece. Australia. Really, the only place on the map I have no interest in is Antarctica, though someone should look out for those ice shelves. I want to talk about these places, even just the way their names look printed on a map. I want it to be okay if we don’t go any of these places. I want someone I can live a simple life with, too. In my mind, this boy plays the guitar and rides a Schwinn and has an inventive, mechanical mind. I can improvise a recipe and sew straight seams and write decently, but I don’t have an inventor’s mind; I appreciate it in others. Whoever he is, he should love to be outside on days like today. On sunny days, it pains me (really, physically) to be trapped inside. On a warm day, I want to wander around tirelessly, revisiting old haunts and scouting out undiscovered corners of my adopted city. People change in warm weather: they tilt their faces upwards and smile easily at strangers. I love staking out a sun-warmed bench to watch the fascinating variety of people. I never listen to music outside of my bedroom. I want to hear everything and miss nothing. So many people walk around with cellphones stapled to their ears, or iPod earbuds in place, and they isolate themselves from their surroundings. I imagine it’s possible some people have gone years without hearing a bird and a distant train or an amusingly out-of-context snippet of someone else’s conversation. He should like to immerse himself in the everyday, the grind of gravel underfoot and the way light dapples through tree canopies. I am such a little kid that way, and he should be, too. I love swings and big friendly dogs and the most basic sounds of the city—the wail of sirens and the soft whirr of tires spinning on wet pavement.

I want someone I can be quiet with—all my silences now are loaded and heavy. I want quiet, reverent silences.

I saw a boy on a bicycle with a guitar slung across his back today. He was only passing, but I liked him immediately.