andieforrester

[andieforrester]

Goodbye Kimmy

Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt season 4, episode 9 “Sliding Van Doors”.

[andieforrester]

Where is your childhood home? Was it more urban or rural?

Mmmm– rural. I guess. Had to take a pretty long bus ride to get to school and town and stuff. Don’t remember it much. 

[andieforrester]

Are you still with your girlfriend?

Yeah! Hell yeah. I’m really happy with Sam. I love her. I hope she’s happy, too, ‘cause I don’t plan on this thing ending anytime soon. We’re good together. She’s good for me. I hope I’m as good for her as she is for me. She reminds me of why I still love the world even when things beyond our control are making me angry or sad. Maybe I should make another romantic gesture soon. Make her see I still feel really– good.

( @samanthcalcott )

[andieforrester]

cywreck‌:

Whatever she was here for, Cyrek had no fucking clue, yet he would never turn away company. His extroversion was adapted from years of working strange jobs and transitioning into the music industry. Networking seamlessly was key. Letting her in and closing the door behind her, he chuckled when she asked him about his hair, tugging on a strand of bleach blonde locks. “I did it myself. Only time I have someone do it is when I visit my sister,” the male replied, inching across the apartment and into the kitchen, grabbing a spatula to flip what was in the pan. Oops, hopefully his dumb ass hadn’t burned them. “No, no, feel free, I always make too fuckin’ much. Coraline eats more than my brother and I do– it’s acarajé, Brazilian dish that’s basically a banana burger with onion and peas? Deep-fried. Fuckin’ delicious unlike how I just made it sound, I swear. You should try it.” His cooking was at least decent after raising three little kids. Looking over his shoulder at her, he inquired curiously, “What, uh, brings you here? It’s honestly a welcome distraction from packin’.”

Andie nodded as she looked around the apartment for a moment, glancing again at his hair. “Cool. It must be fun changing your hair all the time. Marie Antoinette thought so.” She wondered for a moment if that was the only time Marie would come up in the conversation she was planning to have here. “Banana in a burger? That’s-- interesting.” She’d had all kinds of new foods since moving to the city and into her apartment in Queens, all kinds of experiences she’d never expected or thought possible. “I guess I’ll have to, now that I’m intrigued.” She shrugged a shoulder at his question, not totally sure how to approach her real answer. It wasn’t something she could just blurt out. “Just-- thought we could talk. About life and-- stuff. Things from the past.” Was it worse to be cryptic? She had no idea in this situation. “I-- heard something about-- something that happened-- to you.”

[andieforrester]

There’s nothing we can’t do if we work hard, never sleep, and shirk all other responsibilities in our lives.

[andieforrester]

Have you ever thought about moving in with your girlfriend?

Oh, sure. I guess I’m just kind of unsure about not having Chris there. He’s-- a good protector. Like, I’m sure Sam and I would do whatever we could to keep the other safe if-- something were to happen, but-- it’s nice to have Chris with me. Maybe I just need to-- work on it. I’m not gonna live with him forever. And it would be nice to be with Samantha all the time. I could never get tired of her. 

[andieforrester]

any permanent scars?

I have one on my forehead and a couple that go around my wrists. And I mean-- emotional scarring is always-- a delight to unpack. But let’s not go into that! Pretty sure you just meant the physical ones. Did I make it weird? Oof.

[andieforrester]

Andie wasn’t sure what her plan was when she headed to Cyrek’s apartment, just a couple floors away from the one she shared with Christopher. She’d never really-- given this speech before. She’d only told Sam and Chris and her therapist the major plot points of her own story-- though Chris had gotten more details when he accompanied her to the trial a couple of years before, and of course, the therapist got some special secrets-- and it wasn’t something she talked about regularly. For the most part, she tried not to think about it too much. But Orion had let something slip that she couldn’t get out of her head-- it was one thing to push aside her own memories, unpack them carefully in a small office with a couch and soft music and leave them there, hopefully, or stick them in a different box for safe-keeping, but if her friend was stuffing his own boxes into an overcrowded attic-- maybe she could and should try to help in some way. She raised her eyebrows slightly at the greeting, but didn’t ask, figured it was some thing she’d missed sometime between 2004 and 2016. “Hey, uh--” Okay, probably best not to announce that she knew he’d been fucking kidnapped as she just stood in the doorway. “Yeah, very-- bright, did you-- do it yourself or go to someone? I’ve never done anything to my hair, really.” She stepped inside, exhaled quietly, like she always did when she entered someone else’s home. It had become routine, born out of some weird impulse. Maybe her body was elbowing her playfully, joking that she better have enjoyed the outside world while she was there, ‘cause she didn’t know when this door was gonna open again-- shit, anyway-- “Thanks-- oh, I didn’t really mean to-- like, come in and eat all your food.” She was getting better with the manners thing, how to act around people she knew and people she didn’t. “What’re you making?”

@andieforrester

Company is almost to be expected when he’s in the middle of preparing to leave in a couple days. Cyrek couldn’t fathom how he had assumed it would be rather quiet. For as many friends as they think they don’t have, the household seems to get visitors coming to and fro as they please. Micah is one of the constant ones; she started coming over so often he just tossed her a damn key to the apartment he might have made a joke to Coraline that they’re like a free clinic, people seem to just make themselves at home and eat whatever the fuck is in the fridge. Therefore, hearing a knock at the door wasn’t entirely unexpected. His concentration had been focused on fixing the zipper on that worn-out duffel bag he had been packing around on tour and tossing onto the bus haphazardly for the past several years. Longer than that, really, because the bus existed well before the band was born. The bag was ragged and torn in some places, indicating it had likely come to the end of its lifespan, but he was reluctant to get a new one. Coraline would probably wrangle him into it at some point; until then, he was still used to fixing up this and that, what little he owned until it transformed into unusable rags, reluctant to spend money on it, seeing as it wasn’t any of the three immediate necessities of food, shelter, and water. “Damn it,” he mumbled to himself, hissing in disdain when the makeshift zipper he had attempted to tack onto it broke. A huff of disappointment left him, giving up the fight in favor of leaving the bedroom to head for the door, fixing the bracelets on his wrists as he ambled along. Opening the door, an amiable smile immediately appeared on his face when he saw who it was. “Hey, Andie MacDowell!” Groundhog Day reference that nobody on the planet will understand. “What’s goin’ on? How do you like the new ‘do?” Cyrek enthused, grinning and turning to the side to strike a pose for her to show off the blonde hair, putting his hand under his chin in exaggeration and chuckling, opening the door wider, “Please, come in. I should probably check on dinner anyway. You hungry?”

[andieforrester]

no, i do not weep at the world-- i am too busy sharpening my oyster knife.

zora neale hurston

[andieforrester]

andiewithan_ie: 108 years ago the triangle shirtwaist factory caught fire & 146 people, mostly young immigrant women, were killed by inhumane labor practices such as locking doors to prevent them from taking breaks. the resulting outcry led to the workplace regulations and the rights for laborers we have today. but garment factory workers are still suffering here in new york, overworked and underpaid. 98% of los angeles’s garment factories are unsafe by modern standards. we have to treat women and immigrants and all laborers like people. when we remember the past, we have an obligation to look at the present and look to the future. we have to do better for workers in the u.s. and around the world. as one sign carried by a union member put it, “no job is to die for.” history is recorded so we are able to learn from the past and lay foundations for a better future. as you go to work today, remember the employees of the triangle shirtwaist company and consider how we can continue to honor them. “workers of the world unite; you have nothing to lose but your chains.” - karl marx

[andieforrester]

i’ve been waiting for the day i will surely die, and it’s here, and it’s here for i’ve been told that i’ll die before i’m old, and the wind, i know it’s cold

but there’s willow trees and little breezes waves and walls and flowers, and there’s moonlight every single night as i’m locked in these towers

[andieforrester]

Hey, you, aka one of the most incredible girls out there. Reminder that you're such an inspiration. You've endured hell, yet you're still here being awesome and loving. The world should've treated you better but here you are proving that it never slowed you down and you don't need pity to be strong as hell. Your dearest friend Marie Antoinette would be so damn proud of you <3

Hey!! Oh my god is this fanmail? I will take it! I mean, not to be annoyingly humble, but I’m just-- I’ve always just done my best. I just kind of-- did what I had to do and then-- tried to be better than someone who hurt me. Like, if I wasn’t true to myself, He’d be winning. I think-- it did slow me down, a little. Still does. It’s-- still hard. I’m working on accepting that. A lot of people think I’m just-- like, #unbothered, and I want to be, I want it to be fucking-- gone from my life-- but it’s not that easy. Everyone can make conscious decisions to fight the shit that’s hard and just-- really bad. Not just me.But enough of that! I am my own hero and I’m proud of that and I want everyone to believe they can do that for themselves!! I’m pretty sure Oprah has said things like this before, so there’s some more credibility! I’m really happy about what I did for myself, but-- I’m just a person. Like, all I did was refuse to give up. It’s not easy, but it is simple. “At the end of the day, we can endure much more than we think we can.” Frida Kahlo said that. And I agree. Also-- it wasn’t the world that hurt me. I felt like that for a while. Like the whole world was against me and I didn’t even belong in it and I was always trying to get away because none of it was good. But it was just-- one man. One sad, disgusting, pathetic excuse for a man. He made His own fucked up choices and the world was innocent, just the place it was all happening in. And it was easy to blame the whole world, I guess, but the world itself is so beautiful. And there are so many people in it that make up for people like Him. And there are trees that grow little pink flowers and waterfalls with thick mist and rainbows and cold foam. And bad things exist, but so do good things. Like love and hope and compassion and-- the world is doing her best. It’s up to us to allow others to see that.Marie-- she deserved better. Lots of women in history deserved better. Lots of women today deserve better. I think we all have a responsibility to honor them and change things, make things better. And like, be heroes for ourselves and others. If I can inspire that, that’s pretty cool. Just, uh-- remember you’re made of the same stuff as me, you know, blood and muscles and all that. Your fate is in your hands and I believe in you. 

[andieforrester]

samanthcalcott‌:

She’d already woken up after the first Sam, but it took her more than just a couple of minutes to soak in in the environment and not panic—sure, she might have had plenty of sleepovers with her girlfriend before, but this wasn’t Andie’s apartment or hers. The sheet was plush and sleek but it wasn’t theirs, hastening her heartbeat, and she prayed she wouldn’t open her eyes to a looming creature- creatures, above her bed again. She latched on to Andie’s whispers and the soft tune in the background–it helped, a lot–slowly, her eyelids parted and then all she saw was her girlfriend’s features; Sam’s confusion deliquesced, a tender smile creeping to her lips. Please don’t make this a dream, she thought, please. “Hey,” she replied, lifting her thumb to caress the other brunette’s jawline. She looked excited but her words still sounded bleary in Sam’s head, which made her feel bad for a second- she shot glances around, putting two and two together. Andie.  Not her room. Hotel. Andie. She didn’t need to look at the sun when she already had her, but she wasn’t going to turn down her offer. “I’d love to, I wouldn’t want to miss that. Just- um, give me a second,” Sam released a bashful chuckle, pushing her elbows up. She remainedl a bit bewildered. “What time is it?” She’d give her a kiss, but she was self-conscious of her morning breath, “and- where, where are we again? Sorry.” 

Andie melted slightly into the touch-- waking up beside someone, someone she chose, and relishing her touch was something she was finally getting used to, if that term could even be used. She wasn’t used to it in a way that allowed her to take it for granted, halfway enjoy it, but in a way that was sweetly familiar, like her brain was filling up with good memories, gaining the power to push older ones out. “Hi,” She could see she was a little-- delayed-- but whether she was confused, somewhat upset, or just really tired, she couldn’t say. She nodded and turned a lamp on-- not too bright, but it’d illuminate the room a little. “A little after six. We have a few minutes to spare, but-- I like to be prepared.” She sat down on the edge of the bed with a smile, tried not to be concerned by her question-- but she did feel a little bit bad for waking her up. She knew most people weren’t used to her morning routines, even Sam and Chris, but maybe she hadn’t considered how different Sam’s internal clock was. “Quebec. Canada. We’re pretending to be French-Canadians for a week,” she flashed another grin. 

[andieforrester]

Delivered straight to her apartment is a massive purple box with red ribbon tying it close; it’s not too festive but it’s neat, obvious it has been laced by cautious hands and only a few wrinkled folds managed to escape. Inside, there lays a smaller, but tall box of macarons, a tiny bottle of Bouquet du Trianon,  a bright red shirt with the drawing-style picture of Marie Antoinette adorning it and a line of text that says, Courage! I have shown it for years; think you I shall lose it at the moment when my sufferings are to end? as well as gloves and a CD. Then a note is placed ontop of it. 

Good morning, Andie. 

I hope your sleep was filled with magnificent dreams and you’re having an amazing birthday. Here are some presents that I bought a few weeks ago and have managed to keep hidden from you for awhile ;) First, there are a bunch of macarons that you can enjoy with your brother or by yourself, they’re from this French bakery situated near my campus. I don’t go there a lot but I’ve heard many splendid things about their macarons and I hope they really live up to their reputation. 

Next, it’s a home fragrance that I ordered a little while ago. Bouquet du Trianon; a brand that was apparently very loved by Antoinette. I tried taking a small whiff of it while I was boxing it up, and thought it smelled quite wonderful. You can spray it around your apartment and see if it fits your liking, I truly hope it does!

And then, there’s that T-shirt. Consider this a gift from Heather and I, as Heather was the one who made the drawing and I suggested the quote. It’s a simple but it’s also made by very tender material, not precisely the best to wear outside since it’s pretty thin and it’s cold right now (which, speaking of, I’ve also added gloves that match mine - remember when we first met we had to share our gloves?  ❤ ) but it’s perfect to use when you want to cozy up in bed.

Last but not least, is a mixtape. It contains various songs from various generous; it starts with  Romance, Op. 37  and ends with Smile by Uncle Kraker, really, it’s a huge and kind of messy variation but I hope it can boost your mood and make you think of us when you listen to it. We can listen to it together tonight, when you’re free. 

I hope you enjoy the gifts and if you want to hang out soon, I’m free for the weekend, don’t hesitate to give me a text. Have a good day, my lovely Venus  ❤ ❤ ❤

- Samantha.

Andie had, of course, gotten up in time for her birthday sunrise, but when she opened her bedroom door, planning to head outside and watch the neighborhood light up, the apartment was already alive-- to a degree. Chris was in the kitchen, trying not to fall asleep as he stood at the waffle iron on the counter, having planned a breakfast that they could share as the sun came up. She’d nearly knocked him over with a hug, but he didn’t care-- he never cared. She could do no wrong in his eyes, whether it was a startling embrace at 6 in the morning or quite literally anything else. As they were sitting near the large window, blinds drawn up to enhance the view, Andie mentioned the sunrises in Canada, the ones with Sam, accompanied by classical music, and he’d grinned silently because she’d already told him about each one-- multiple times. Once the sun was officially up and everything was bathed in light, he’d suggested they watch The Nutcracker-- as it turned out, the version she used to see on TV every year ( with that kid from Home Alone and New York City Ballet ) was on Netflix. They made it to the end of the snow scene-- her favorite-- and then Chris was asleep. So she skipped back every few minutes to watch the human-snowflakes on repeat for almost an hour, thinking of what they’d always meant before-- she didn’t have to envy them now. Eventually, she dozed off, too, but woke up again around eleven a.m.-- and that was when she opened the door and found the box. 

The macarons made her grin-- of course. What said France and sophistication like tiny cookies in pastel colors that were nearly impossible to make right? She already knew she’d save almost all of them for her and Sam to eat together. Of course it was from Sam, though she hadn’t read the note yet. She wasn’t the note-first type. She was tempted to crack the box open and have one now, but she figured it’d be good to at least get a cute picture of everything before cookies started to go missing from their places.

Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of the perfume-- she recognized Trianon immediately, Petit Trianon, one of Marie’s havens at Versailles-- she’d envisioned herself there more than once, surrounded by flowers, floral-upholstered-couches, large windows, the perfect opposite of a small house in Fort Davis, Texas, dry dirt invisible behind closed blinds, cemented windows, ugly furniture that saw everything, said nothing. She quickly found the note, eyes starting to blur when she reached the reference to the fragrance, to the queen herself. She knew it mattered, but did she know how much? How could she know?

Her hands were already trembling when she reached for the shirt, and as soon as she’d read the quote, a sob erupted, heavy but not with grief-- god, she wasn’t sad, what the hell was this? Chris was stumbling over the arm of the couch within seconds, and stopped to kneel beside her, where she’d sunk to her knees, shirt held close to her chest. It was all in those fucking words, wasn’t it? Her sweetest friend for all that time, misunderstood, accepting her fate knowing she’d forever be misinterpreted by anyone who refused to look beyond the surface, and then two hundred and fifty years later, a girl in a kitchen with a cutting board, courage coursing despite sheer terror, fight or flight, now or never, do or die-- and she held her own destiny, and hadn’t every woman in her books, in her head, been teaching her to reach out and grab it? When she had finally unfurled enough for Chris to see the shirt, he swallowed hard, looked about like he had when he’d emerged from his room having finished A Thousand Splendid Suns. She just sat there for a moment on her knees, trying to find her composition. Gave the room a couple spritzes from the bottle, dissolved into tears again. 

When she finally stood up to find the last gifts in the box, Chris nudged her lightly and joked that his gift was going to seem pretty lame at this point. 

She’d rolled her eyes, smiled as she rubbed at the remaining stickiness on her face, red and a little patchy. The gloves made her laugh, a couple more tears sprang forth, and she slid one on her hand to admire it, to remember their first adventure, first snow-- her first winter living as free as the snowflake-women in The Nutcracker. She was certainly ready for the two of them to make use of their now-complete sets of gloves, to form new sequences of good times that would replay in the dark, mini-movies of the best moments that she could return to, even better than a repeating Nutcracker snow scene. 

Finally, she stared at the CD, not entirely sure if it was a CD-- maybe a DVD?-- and decided to look back at the note for some context. ( She had to work to keep her throat from tensing up as she read the part she’d missed, with the shirt and gloves. ‘It’s simple’ was such an incredible contradiction-- it was the truth, yet felt far from it. She just knew-- she took what jumbled sentences Andie could form regarding those twelve years and listened and from that-- she somehow knew. She wanted to go through the whole CD right then, once she had a-- quite vague-- idea of what was on it, but decided it’d be best with Sam and the macarons. She was careful to put almost everything back in the box, just to ensure it was there later when she needed it, but took the shirt to her room, found the black high-waisted pants she’d set aside for her museum shift and a black turtleneck, layered the shirt so it’d be warmer, tucked it into the pants with a few careful tugs to achieve the casual tucked look ( she was learning about fashion and trends-- slowly ) and grabbed her phone to take a picture for Sam. 

( text. ) My coworkers are going to be jealous ( sunglasses emoji. ) ( text. ) I don’t even know what to say ( text. ) Did you invade my brain and steal my unconscious conception of the perfect shirt? That’s probably illegal. 

She snapped another picture so the lingering redness in and around her eyes was visible, and sent it with a series of wailing emojis. 

( text. ) Don’t worry, it was a good kind of crying ( text. ) I don’t know how you just know the right thing to say and do all the time but you’re perfect and I’m glad my courage didn’t run out when I needed it most. I wouldn’t have found you ( text. ) Thank you ( text. ) We gotta have a macaron CD listening party later ( text. ) The apartment smells so damn good ( text. ) Why have we never gone to this French bakery? That sounds like a d-a-t-e to me ( text. ) Oh and I love you.

[andieforrester]

Happy 22nd Birthday Andie Forrester ( December 19th ) !

                                      @andieforrester

[andieforrester]

Andie hesitated for a moment, a sudden ethical dilemma arising, 6 am, cold air on the hotel balcony, warmer inside ( though, also cold in comparison to the bed. ) She’d gotten up in time to call room service ( from the bathroom, so she didn’t have to whisper ) and they’d brought up two breakfasts, both sitting on the table near the sliding door. Sam looked so peaceful-- wow-- but the sun was about to rise and the sky was already starting to change color, but-- how could she wake her up? But-- how could she not? She finally decided this was more important than sleeping, at least for the time being, they could go back to bed after if they wanted. “Sam. Sam,” Whispering probably wasn’t gonna cut it. But she didn’t want to be too harsh, either. Now she was tasked with another decision-- how to do it-- but this one was solved more quickly: a song seemed appropriate, one in particular, especially as she looked back toward the glass and saw the sparkling of the snow on the ground, in the trees, on the roofs of neighboring buildings. Once she felt her voice might be less-- jarring-- she spoke up, softly, morning-voice still present. “Sam? --The sun’s gonna come up, and-- it’s gonna be really pretty. If you want to see it.”

@samanthcalcott

[andieforrester]

out of the darkness and into the sun but i won’t forget the place i come from i’ll take a risk, take a chance,  make a change, and break away