Can I get Yo Numba?

Today was one of those days where I smiled all day. YES! I do actually smile and have happy thoughts. Most of the time this strange and foreign mood comes to me via work. I like work, sure sometimes it can be a bit tedious, but I do overall enjoy it. Fridays are especially super because I get to work alone and that, my friends, brings us back to my somewhat anti--social demeanor. HOWEVER, today was eventful, today I got a boy's number.
That's right, I got a boy's number for the first time in...well...forever. First I'll give you the good news, and then the...typical news. Him and his friend were very polite and very flattering to me. They questioned me thoughtfully and commented on my "stylish" outfit (POLKA DOTS TO THE RESCUE!) We laughed, and I said goodbye, because..I'm basically paid to have friendly conversation with customers. Fast forward ten minutes later. The tall blond comes in and asks for my number for his other half (the brunette) When I fail to answer right away (I'll tell you why) he rescued his friend's good name by saying "Ooor I could give you his?" Bingo. I took down his number and said farewell, a little pink in the cheeks. Fast forward five minutes later. The brunette comes in awkwardly shuffling his ankle-high-socked feet. "Hi, I'm [the brunette] I just couldn't help but notice....okay, bye....[he turns around] call me!"  "Okaay!" I replied out of, well, out of instinct I guess. I won't call. Here's why, here's the typical news:
Although both were charming young men, they were not my type. Here's why: They were between 19-20, immature, loud, and...fellows whom I'm sure love to cozy up with a giant bowl of fruit loops and play Halo. NOT THAT THERE'S ANYTHING WRONG WITH THAT, but alas, I am searching for something else...something aged, like a fine wine.
   This got me thinking: What kind of guy am I looking for? Those two were very nice, am I that shallow that I only go for looks despite overall kind personality? Kinda, but not really. Fast forward about three hours, a young man comes in (21-23?) he does a to-go order, and we talk back and forth. He's adorable, lovely eyes, super nice, and I sensed some coy humor buried beneath it all. He seemed modest about his good looks and was very sweet despite the fact that his card was declined and I was forced to send him away to some distant ATM or store to collect $3.73. I had no other choice. ;) When he came back he was still chill and we talked. I didn't get his number, but at least I realized what I'm looking for. Calm, relaxed, sweet, and not hard on the eyes. Okay, cool. I do have to say that the halo-players made my day in the way that they flattered me and boosted my confidence, I just think there's someone better suited and someone they probably know better than me to ask out. For all he knew I coulda' been a serial killer with a psycho cat addiction.

Hunk of Meat Bag

I wonder sometimes why I become obsessed with certain things. The important thing is that I've recognized the somewhat obsessive trait I have within me. I go a little nuts when I'm passionate, inspired, or just plain intrigued by something. (Yes, I went through the embarrassing Twilight stage...action figures and all) BUT that's not what I mean right now.
   Looking through the pictures of past school peers in their new college environments, it  hits me: I will probably never see those folks again. ever." Not my close friends who I obviously cannot live without, but the people I used to see every day, the boy  I used to crush on, the people who sat behind me, next to me, across from me etc... I will probably never see them again. Then this hits me: Why did I care so much? Why did I obsess so much over him, over what he thought, over what I wore, over the things they said? I will never run into any of those people again, AND chances are, if I see them, I will turn my head awkwardly away hoping they will not recognize me. (I don't know why, but I think it's for the best). It turns out that the only people who I care about what they think, when they're coming back, and what I hope our future relationship will be are those who know that I know that they know who they are. Make sense? Probably not. Here's the thing: I don't look back on high school and say awww it was the greatest. I look back and say HOLYSHITIMSOGLADIMETYOUFEWPEOPLEWHOIMSOINLOVEWITH. I wonder why I tried so hard to impress him, why I went to EVERY show and did EVERYTHING in his honor for a certain amount of time, because now what the shit do I have? I don't have any feeling towards him, he's long gone, we're two completely different strangers now. I'm a fool, and he's missing out. ;) ( DISCLAIMER: I say that to make myself sound cooler than I actually am.) I guess he can represent the whole of the population that I was way too focused on too. I have my friends, my lovely understanding friends, and that's all I should have ever worried about: keeping them near and dear. I love their guts. I could care less about all the other things that seemed to be weighing me down back then. What a life eh? Now all I have to do is apply it to my current college life. Am I really going to care about what the good looking guy in the ball cap thought about me? Am I gonna care about the prissy girl who sat next to me? Probs not. My mom told me that from now on I should just speak my mind. For example, if someone is annoying me to no end I should just say "Eh Fella, shut the fuck up please" but can I do it? Hmmm....
I said I should just carry big hunks of meat in my purse to chuck at those who are "chuck-worthy". Wish me luck.

Fuel

Not a great day to say the least.
   A panic attack lifted me out of my seat and got my chest heaving like a run-down horse. Suddenly everything was hitting me at a million miles an hour and I looked around for a practical escape route, but there was nowhere. You see, it's all the same. I could run to one place, but it'd still be too close and too easy of a guess for anyone who'd set out to look for me. I wrote furiously in my moleskin notebook, every word that was coming to mind, every phrase, hoping that somehow it'd bring me peace of mind, but it just fueled the yearning. What brought this on? It was silly. It was minor and part of the world I am being brought up in:

   A girl, my age, perhaps a year older or even younger got out of her white Mercedes at the gas station. She donned ripped daisy dukes, knee high "jock socks", a revealing tank top, and had her bleached blonde tresses on display. Her face was confident and as she looked over to size me up: ( me in my tucked in sweater, tights, and oxfords) a truck of boys our age pulled up. I looked just in time to see the boy in the passenger seat punch the driver, putting his fist to his own mouth and whistling at her. He was enjoying the view and I stood idly by with the gas pump clutched in my hand watching the scene. She paid them no attention, but for some reason it infuriated me. I was so angry. Not because they weren't hollering at me, not because she wasn't basking in  the kind of attention i never get, but because I  felt like it summed up this stupid city.   Typical, unoriginal, biased stupidity. Here she was, classic blond beauty, probably a better choice to play Daisy in "The Dukes of Hazzard" and here they were, the ever-sought-after prince charmings, banging the side of their truck like a bunch of animals. My disgust was endless. Why? This is normal stupid teenage behavior? There will be people like that everywhere you go. This city is  MADE of people like that. Not a few here, a few there...made. Homegrown typicality right here for me to live in. If you want it, you can have it.
   So, I drove angry to class, three hours before class would even start. I climbed in the back seat with the windows down and cried. It just hit me. This one stupid moment in time, something I would never usually pay any mind to had me in a ball in the back seat of my car. So now, like an ill child, I am home. After the episode passed enough for me to stop the heavy breathing, I climbed in the front seat and peeled out of there. Tears were flowing freely and it just so happens that the boy from the post "How it Felt" was standing in the parking lot wearing a suit in front of his new Mercedes. I was angry at everything. I'm home now, convinced that teaching myself the math lesson will let me simultaneously calm down.
   I miss my friends, I miss their likability, their genuineness, their humor. I'm glad they get to see more than the rundown "Welcome to San Clemente" sign off the freeway; blue and white letters printed in swirly cursive as if it couldn't get much better in this city by the beach. Trust me, it could, but it won't.

"I'm tired of walking this wire, It keeps me awake for heaven sake"

All I want to do is write.

Collaboration

Tomorrow we will start work on our first song. Who knows what that really means. My brother and I tend to goof off most of the time and frankly, I'm a bit nervous to just openly start singing. (I save that stuff for my car and my room). However, that's gonna have to change if I have any long-term plans for this thing  (which, I do AND I don't...i don't know) So, I have all these plans for myself, and I call them my "why not?" plans because, well, why not? Why not try and see what happens, even if I get embarrassed, or even if my comfort zone is being breached. It's about damn time I'd say. I'm really excited for what's to come, I'm also really uncertain and really really content with the idea of working with my brother who's been musically involved for years and has played many a shows in and out of California. It's the life I want, and the one he's inspired me with. Now, I know there are more than just my close friend reading this blog  (I check my stats people) and I love it! SO if something grand comes out of our collaboration, I will post it here. I'm also being bossy and assuming that you care, but I appreciate the views. Stay excellent,
-India

All Work and No Play.

Here I am,
I'm criss-cross applesauce on the piano bench with the dogs laying in a heap on the floor beside me. However, last night was more substantial. I have this math teacher from China (English is his second language) he is great. I'm terrible at math, but somehow I still felt at ease in the class and that is credited to him. Last night he told us of his personal life for the first half hour of class. His wife passed away leaving him a single father, his baby only months old. He did everything for her, he never missed work so that he could pay off the necessities for her to have a good foundation. He was later laid off his job as an engineer and then went from private tutor to algebra professor. His advice to us lifted me out of my face- in- palm position because this is what he told us:

He first asked us to guess his age- 37? 45? 25? 48? 51? No one got it. Once the question was asked I realized I had never really considered much except that he was fit and looked to be in his mid-forties. He is 53. What came next was the secret to life. He said that nothing else matters if you don't have your health and having your health means no stress allowed. This man, who had lost his wife, was laid off, and had a baby girl to raise was less stressed and more content with himself than anyone in the room I think. "You fail the class? So what, take it again. It's just a grade, it's not worth risking your health. I failed classes in college, but I just took them again." His take on seeking out a high-paying job just for the money? "Will money buy your health? Your friends? Your family? No. Nothing can buy your health for you and that's the most important thing." I was in awe. He was being so honest, saying exactly what I needed someone to say all along, someone to notice that grades are good, they're important, but they're also just a letter and they will not completely ruin any future you have for yourself. Fail? Bummer. Take it again, do better. I'm not condoning failure here, I'm not saying I don't believe in trying, but I've met and seen many people who are on this planet to succeed and to be one step ahead. For what? My dream : don't laugh, is to learn guitar, and get on the road with my brother and play for people. Play small venues, big ones, medium sized ones. Read books, meet people, have fun, get scared, travel far, come back, etc... I don't know what I want, but truth be told, I am constantly stressing about my future, hell, I failed my first math test, but apparently it wasn't the end of the world. I'm good in other ways that can't be proven by an A-F letter scale. And so are you. I found/find his advice to be out of this world refreshing and so unexpected. I care, I do care, but he taught me much more than how to graph a linear equation, he literally taught us all the secret to life. Do what makes you happy because there's little to no stress there. If you make a million dollars, but your hair turned gray in the process and you lost your friends...what will you do? If you spent a week awake to get straight A's, but missed out on meeting new people and experiencing life in its essence, then what do you really have? My religious views concern the essence of life, and that life is different for each individual. Who knows what will happen. No one can tell you. So what are we looking for? I will continue to work and to study, but I will also pay closer attention to the things that make up a life worth living.
-"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy"

The F Bomb

What's gotten into me?

 I ranted about everything today saying the word "fuck", well, about every other word. I paced back and forth between the bathroom and the living room talking about my disappointment in this society (take it as a whole or a half) to my poor mother who is watching her young daughter shrivel up into a bitter old woman. That damn revving engine kept setting my sister's car alarm off as I tried to study for a test that was killing me softly. In a too-big concert t-shirt and horrible bed head I stormed outside to confront our "hillbilly neighbor" (that's what we call him, because he is the epitome of said description. I stood curbside waiting for that jackass to come around again, and sure enough I witnessed him purposely revving that stupid homemade engine to set our car alarm off. Before I knew it, my legs were marching towards the street, my hand held out to stop him. He slowed and looked over with his tattooed face and ugly mug unabashed. "Can you stop doing that?" I said rather callously. he looks ahead and revs again. "SERIOUSLY???!!" I slammed my hand down on the trashcan beside me. He asked if it was disturbing my attempt at sleeping (it was 11 a.m. and I was fully dressed...just not well) "No, it's just fuckin' annoying, you've been doing that for half an hour." He looked ahead and drove off. However, that was his last lap around, because he parked the fuckin' thing in his driveway and that was that. I felt accomplished seeing as I try to avoid confrontation and here I had confronted our whacked out neighbor and made him stop his nonsense. Hours later, I locked my keys in my trunk and had to be taxied home by a friend only to find the door lock, thus forcing me to hop  out neighbor's fence and landing quite hard all those 6 feet down. Great day.Great. I can't complain though, I laughed most of it off between saying "fuck". Not too shabby. The change I see in myself is that I plan to work on not taking bullshit just because I feel small. Okay, good. Goodbye.

I've Seen Beauty that I Won't See Again

Without a word she began to play. "Rambling Man", my favorite song from her sophomoric album. There was something about her eyes, so dark and disconnected from her voice that sent an eerie chill up my spine which coincided with the chills I got from the bass that hummed in just the right timing. I stood in the crowd completely unable to realize what i witnessed and completely mesmerized. She had the crowd in the palm of her hand, vulnerable and willing to believe anything and everything she fed to us. Her eyes flicked to even the subtlest noises in the crowd like an animal on the defensive. She was honest in her inability to participate in stage banter and she spoke almost too quietly. I don't think I've ever gotten the kind of chills I got last night. Like waves of heat and goosebumps that went from toe to head in odd patterns. It was uncomfortable, yet I couldn't help but want the feeling to stay. As she sang the old songs and the new ones she seemed to be swept away in the midst of a harmonic melody and unwilling to relinquish the feeling that caught her eye and drew them to the ceiling. Like she saw ghosts or spirits ballroom dancing on the ceiling, her chin would be drawn up, her eyes cold. As she sang of the Devil and of God's planned work, I couldn't help but think she'd sold her soul for the beauty of her ringing voice and equally beautiful physical appearance. She was a presence to be reckoned with, and no one dared try to breach what belonged to her. The room belonged to her, I felt small as I looked up to her on the stage; such power behind the plucking of strings. The band seemed equally swept away and followed her from the light to the dark as they chimed in with heart and complete trust.
A new song was played (one not even on the new album) She said it was because she wanted to leave "opportunity to fuck up" since her band and her rarely fucked up on the same old set. It was beautiful and she understood that most audiences don't like sitting through new songs, but that "there {was} nothing we could do about it." There wasn't a single protest from the audience who, like i said, would follow her into complete darkness. Her song consisted of the recurring line "I do not want to love, I want to be alone. I cannot love, I want to be alone." I felt everything and nothing at the same time, like an out-of-body experience. I wanted so bad to be in her position, to be so humbled, so subtly famous, so beautiful in all the flaws and all the perfections. Her dark eyes frightened me and kept me entranced, much like a prey is mesmerized by the eyes of a snake.She's seemingly not of this world, but then again I am girl crushing hard on this idol of mine. She sounded perfect in all the ways I imagined.
On another note, "Alessi's Ark" opened for Laura, a two-man band (Alessi and Marcus) who were beautiful together. Her voice moved so intriguingly around her lips and out of her throat. She bantered quite lovely with the audience and connected in the trills of her light accented voice. What's better is that I got to meet her in person. As we were leaving, I caught the sight of her right next to the door outside talking with a very handsome man who smoked a cigarette. Star-struck I interrupted their quite conversation and asked for an autograph (then I dug nervously and for what seemed like forever for my sharpie). She laughed awkwardly and said "You can come closer to me. I don't bite, but I do smell a bit". Major. Girl.Crush. I asked her to sign the Laura Marling shirt I had bought and she bent down on her knees after asking my name and drew a sailboat with an "I" on the sail and said "Stay warm and safe on your travels <3 Alessi" I died. She then looked up the dark street and asked "Can you guys get home okay? Where are you parked?" We nervously looked at each other and I explained we were just around the corner "Not like I'm your mother" we all laughed and I told her I appreciated it all the same. We parted ways and I realized the kind of person I want to be: humble, soft-spoken, and able to emit my own sort of beautiful light no matter my appearance. It was an amazing night to say the least. I can cross a few things off my bucket list.
P.S. we saw the dad (Billy Burke) from Twilight walking around the venue...quite random right?

Finally

Tonight I shall behold the most beautiful sight of all. Despite near heart-breaking hindrances, someone up there is just shuffling the deck. The piece of paper that has been burning a hole through my car's glove compartment reads "Laura Marling at the Troubadour, West Hollywood. September 20, 2011. Doors open at 7:00 p.m." That's right, I will finally get to witness her in the purest form that is a live set of her newest album "A Creature I Don't Know". An **update will be posted either late tonight ( I have a big test tomorrow so it'll probably be an all-nighter anyways) or tomorrow.

Put it This Way:

They said it would take the motivation of all motivation to successfully complete my time at community college. I let it roll. I'm finding, however, that their omens were true, but not for the right reasons. I wake up in the morning and wonder why I bother trying at something I'm not even sure of. My mom told me this morning that I "have to get all A's" so that I can transfer. The fire I once had in me to transfer to Berkeley, UCLA, or SFSU, has somehow burnt out inside of me. I'm lazy with school work, I  let it sit until the night before and have no passion as I complete the worksheets that seem redundant. I sit around in the house with sweatpants on up until the hour I must leave for class. I sit at the piano with my laptop writing things out and banging them out on the piano to allow myself a moment or two of self-satisfaction. What the hell am I working for? It's hard to get up in the morning knowing the day's plan is so solidified, I know where I'll be an hour into lunch, I know who I'll be sitting next to, I know what the assignment will be. The only thing I can't predict is the weather. When I think about it, most of my idols are musicians, some are not even well-known, but they're happy. They wake up, write songs, get together, play songs, play small venues, go on tour, live a life. They live young lives and I feel that's the life for me. On the road with people I adore, people who sit with a guitar in their lap instead of a tall blond. People who think in terms of the "now" and living because we're young. I want that. No one's future is ascertained.
We'll be in the recording studio in a short amount of time (a week's time maybe?) and that has me passionate for the first time in awhile. I've written something that has been approved by my brother who wants to know what key it's in so that we may start on something that will give us something to look forward to. I'm very exited and hoping all will actually fall into place (my brother can be...a flake at certain points) I've got the song in key this morning and need to work out its kinks and out-of-beat lines. I guess my point is that I'm losing my motivation two months into school, and that's not good at all. A future needs to be developed, but I'm discouraged at its glacial pace and the way in which I must reach it. (really? a worksheet on plagiarism?) I feel like the instant I set foot in the recording studio I will fall in love for the first time, further dampening my need to reach for some unknown that could be twenty to thirty years out . This is not a lesson for all, this is just advice to myself in the form of banging things out, much the way I do on the keys. I'm lost. We'll just put it that way for now.

Breathe Me

Last night I laid in bed with my trusty ipod in ear. I closed my eyes and listened to my "Be Calm" playlist that seems to never get old despite many a' nights it has put me to rest. I always start with "Blood" and then let the shuffle do the rest, and this time shuffle decided on "Cubism Dream" which got me teary-eyed and bothered. For the first time I listened to every instrument, every thoughtful pluck of a string, touch of a key, or pat of a drum. I let it take me to their concert, the first time I saw them. I was with some of the people that I miss most now, standing idly in a medium-sized crowd in the dark, staring at red velvet curtains. I remembered the sheer power of the crowd, the tangible vibe that waved from the tips of toes up to the musicians on stage. The knocked over symbol that was smacked too hard in a moment of ultimate passion during "Sun Hands." Suddenly I missed my friends more than anything and wished I could be in that place one more time. Sia sent me into an emotional spiral as "Breath Me" took the place of the previous song. I was rocked with loneliness and wished I could be anywhere, but alone in my darkened room. I then realized that I wasn't alone. I realized, as corny as it sounds, how powerful music is. How suddenly, I didn't feel alone, because it was possible to be in all the places with all the people I wanted to be, just by replaying specific songs. Sure, I cried like a sissy, but at least I was feeling something for the first time in what felt like forever.

"and you'll find somebody you can blame

and you'll follow the creek that runs out into the sea

and you'll find the peace of the Lord."


-It'll be okay. 

Today

What was today? Today was being observant and wishing I was other places. Today was nostalgic of one of the best times of my life in a place with complete strangers and best friends. Today was wanting to cry and sensing the onset of Halloween. Today was biting my lip, trying not to laugh so loud in the midst of a silent class. Today was looking down while walking through a group of boys who hushed at my intrusion. I wanted to run today, I wanted to pretend like everything is just a dream and that I'll wake up to something different. Today was a lump in the throat and romantic-comedy day. Today was falling in love with Paul Rudd and wishing for a romance. Today was looking at pictures and wondering why I hadn't been born ten years earlier. Missing, today was missing and lingering on raspy, beautiful voices. Today is pretending that I can play guitar in front of an adoring audience and today is pretending I live in London. Today is saying the less-hard farewells to the college-bound kids. Today is realizing that it's not so bad, but it could be better. Today I want to get everything back, pack it away, and carry it forward on my back. Today was today.

My Friends

"My friends, my dear friends
And lovers, oh my lovers
I'd leave you for them

They got a hand on my back

Mama has money now and Mama has friends
She's making rags for some uptown hags 
With their money in bags
And why are you so sad?

Why are you always so sad?
Why do I not understand?
Why don't I see what it is you see?
Why can I live and just be?

I'm full of guilt
I am full of guilt
You're very tall, you're very handsome
You have it all, your skin smells like man

And I, you never know how I ache
You will never know how I ache
Don't touch that in grace

Ever considered the sea?
I heard you had to be strong
Why not float around with me?
It won't take you so long

You can go where I'm at
You can hang around with me
And a few good men will go where they all
Where they all not be
And a few good mothers go for what they, 
What they all not teach

And I long for a touch or reminder of us but, 
But it must not be

And a few strong branches over water reach for what they all not reach

I hope your mother knows where it is you have been
I hope your mother knows what it is you have seen
She'd be so proud
She will never know how I ache"

Free of It

 I woke up this morning with no hair. Straight out of bed I got to my knees in front of the mirror. I looked, swiping my fingers under my eyes to remove faint makeup stains. It was gone. It took me five minutes before I could walk downstairs and face my brother who hadn't seen my new self yet. He didn't even notice. I could face the day, I had to. As I went out to workout, I realized that it didn't matter. I began to realize that if people like me more with hair, then people are too shallow for me to consider as friends or peers.I panicked a little about venturing into school today (my longest day of classes) and showing my face with little hair attached to it. Same thought came to my head: Screw 'em. It's my body, my face, my hair. I can't say that I've made hordes of friends, so the only people who would judge me are people I don't even know. Therefore, their judgments are cancelled out by my practiced ability to quiet the strangers.

This may help:

"I choose to stay far away from the ones that think
Money is money to share
Don't ask me why and I'll tell you no lies.

Sonny don't come here no more
He don't drink from this well
He's done with the world
And done with the girl
And I don't ask him why
And he tells me no lies

Those of us who are lost and low
I know how you feel
I know it's not right but it's real
But it's real

I don't ask for love
And I don't beg for money
I'm just asking for grace and forgiveness now honey
Don't ask me why
And I'll tell you no lies

Been looking for answers in unsavory places
On the highest of mountains
And the lowest of bases
And I still don't know why
I still don't know why

Those of us wo are lost and low
We know how you feel
We know it's not right but it's real
But it's real

I took the wind from the sea
I took the blood from an arrow
I took the wisdom of spring
And I was thrown and blown and tossed and turned
Until time found its hand
And called it an end

Me and time, we go way back when
I was a child and I always knew it

I knew my name, I knew my road
And I stayed away from heavy loads
And still I am low
Oh lord, am I low

Those of us who are lost and low
We know how you feel
We know it's not right but it's real
But it's real"
-"Don't Ask Me Why"- Laura Marling

Body

What am I allowed to do with this body? A broken sack of doubts and incorrigible needs that suck me to my knees.
There is a place where I may kneel alongside flickering lights of God's good will-- the holy place where an unholy man may steal.
 I am not of my mother's cloth, the one cut can cut to the bone of some strange man to whom I am no longer acquainted with.
 He's is gone to another life, a basket full of bastards clinging to the sole of his shoes.
What can I do with this body?  A dead arachnid can still hang in lifeless light,  a skeletal statue of yesterday, clings to his web with all of its might.
 I am an undiscovered faithful of that which I do not believe. What is it that saves me a thousand deaths can also let me suffer, cry, and deceive.
 I am not a play thing of some gentleman character, his ownership presses me to the wall and I kick back his forceful will.
 I am not of his cloth, I push away from his chest, a poisonous gentleman who cowers in his nest.
 Give me the freedom to cut it all off, wipe it away, you will never love me not. I choose to be this woman, the one in the back. I'll cave myself in and then build myself up.
 You don't need to know what I care not to share and endless story that will spit and stare on.
 What am I allowed to do with this body? I choose to take years more to see, the person who looks back is the friendlier me.
 I am on the other side of what should be of this old woman's mind. Give me my youth in some form of a sack, give it to me, give me my life back.

Rapunzel, Rapunzel.

We waited.My mom and I sat on a stone wall waiting for the others to arrive for dinner at a simple diner. We were up the steps from the parking structure on one side of a wall. There were obviously people on the opposite side clinking glasses, laughing, running...and music. A man's voice that was buttery smooth and sultry sang along side the simplistic plucking of an acoustic guitar. I fell for him. I jumped up and around a bending tree to the wall where I pulled my knees to my chest and looked down on him. He was literally right there on the other side of the wall about ten feet down. All I could see was the back of him and the top and bottom of the guitar. He was beautiful still. I noticed people were trying to get a glimpse of the man behind the voice as they stood on their tip-toes and looked further down the wall. I was the only one braving the scale of the wall, quietly, yet intrusively looking in on someones wedding party. He sang to an unappreciative audience that neglected to clap or whistle between sets, instead they talked over him and let the notes fall dead and crumpled on the table cloth. I felt like Rapunzel looking down on her prince from the tower, I also felt creepy since he didn't know I was peeking over. Leaving my spot for just a minute, I ran down the steps to the back gates where a catering staff was hurriedly pulling things together, stacking tables, and rearranging food set-ups. I timidly asked a man who the singer was and he said he had no clue, but inquired the same of one of his co-workers. She had no idea either. I felt bad. I felt it represented the struggle of most artists these days. They have all the artistic ability and talent anyone could ask for, but they don't have the attention of the people. Disappointed, I returned to the wall where I again pulled myself into a ball and peeked down behind the leaves of a leaning tree. Eventually, unable to help myself, I whispered down to him. I whispered until two bright blue eyes looked up into the tree and saw me. I asked him his name and how great he sounded. He genuinely thanked me and said that he really appreciated it, directing me to his youtube channel and his itunes store. It was cute. It was probably the most romantic moment of my life thus far.

Ashamed

I am the boy your mother wanted you to meet
But I am broken and torn with heels at my feet (?)
And with your purest light why don't you shine on me
Well I should have been an angel
But I'm too dumb to speak
Now as she gets nearer, the visions get clearer
I'm kneeling, weeping
I will hold her dear
Oh, If your eyes water, you've got your favorite number to spin

And oh, what a crying shame, a crying shame
What we became

Murdered my throat, screaming bloody all night
Hit him with a book and how he crumbles
Oh you should have seen the arches tumble
Their golden no more 
Now I'm smiling in my blood

I'm caught in a whirlwind
I'm going to heaven
I'm standing on trial and it's painted on canvas
An eternal testament to how we are so animalistic

And oh, what a crying shame, what a crying shame
What we became

I bow my head in the morning light and say goodnight
I held her hand and I, I kissed her eyes
Stumbled down the stairs and hang my self on high
And I started for the town that i have a front yard
And died 

Rain, Rain, Stay,Stay, Stay

It's raining this morning with the echo of thunder and the brilliance of lightening. Rain makes me feel pensive, not depressed, just pensive... nostalgic if you will. I've been interviewing myself in the gray of my room all morning: "How are you doing?" "What does it feel like?" "What are your plans" "Who and what are you thankful for?" "What do you need?" "What will you do?" etc... I do this often to keep myself in sync with my entire self. I hate feeling disconnected (my mind one place and my body in another) it keeps me together. The rain keeps me together. For some people it brings mild panic because the roads are slick and their cars get dirty, but for some and I think most, it brings a blanketing calm over everything. Everything just gets kind of quiet. I put on a wool sweater and scarf for work and wonder how I will do in today's great plan and how each day brings a new kind of "missing you" that I put in the back of my mind until it becomes a numb sting. Rainy days make me feel like Laura Marling, they bring the powerful calm that she represents and I feel like I can only be close to her through the rainy weather. I need something to get close to. I need someone to wrap their arms around me and listen to the rain like a black and white picture show. I am thankful for listening ears today and I am thankful for the calm.

I had a heart-to-heart with a friend tonight. Quite unexpectedly actually. I ended up talking about things that I may not have said out right to others. We talked about things that were seemingly spilling uncontrollably over and out of our lips. Talking, telling, saying,and declaring things that had been kept in for awhile, waiting for a random moment to explode. I talked about how I've hypothesized that I've lost the ability to care about what other people say (in conversation, out loud, to inform, to make friends, to explain, etc..) I said that I feel I haven't actually cared for awhile and that I'm tired of trying so hard. I admitted to simply trying in high school, always trying to impress and to leave my mark on people and I'd stress over their reactions. I tried until I wore myself out dry. We expressed things to each other about how we're doing and how we're not doing. How neither of us understand why people want to talk to us at all (we're really quiet) and how I don't believe we're meant to meet people until we're older. Sure we have our solid friends now, but that should be it for awhile. I feel like we make good friends, keep them, and then add to them, but only when we reach the next level. We understood each other, like a new awakening and a sigh of relief was always just a talk in the car away. I spilled the entire can of beans on why I've built a wall and why I won't let anyone else in and we sat in silence sometimes before the other would pick up with a new thought. It'd be cliche to say that a weight has been lifted off of my chest, but I feel light again. I've been holding it in for some time now, but I think I just needed a release (could have been anything like a wall, a cardboard box, or a friend) I was asked what I'm looking for in people and why I won't give them a chance and I said that I feel like I've set myself up too high. I've expected too much from people and I'm too damn stubborn to lower myself to the wagging of tongues that blab on about this and that. I won't let go of the expectations I've got, because then I'll have nothing. I declared all about how I want to meet people who want to talk about books and then be silly all over again, not the ones who are easy to find and like to smoke pot. The real point is that I've finally been heard for the first time in a while, I've been able to unload. What's funny is that in the midst of saying that I've lost the ability to care about what others say, I realized that I care deeply and painfully about what these people I love have got to say because they're a lot of what I've got and I won't let it go.

Hot & Heavy Heart

Today I felt like crying in the midst of the one-hundred plus degree heat. I don't really know why. I was curled into a black ball of sweaty clothes in my car as I consumed a hummus wrap with the windows down. My bare feet were stretched out across the dash as I watched cars drive circles around the lot. I just wanted to cry for no reason at all. I couldn't place my finger on why it was that this feeling was washing over me, but I assumed it's because I felt alone. I'm more able to relate myself to Mia from "Princess Diaries" when she gets sat on because she's practically invisible to others. I see nice faces, those who ask me if they can have my parking space once I'm gone and those who I hold the door for. I just can't get close to those faces because I'm in some lost place. I like getting coffee because the coffee guy talks nicely to me, he seems like he really wants to know how my day has been going. (Oh, God I'm pathetic) On the other hand, I don't really mind walking around solo, it's nice to take time to notice the simple things around me without the distraction of conversation, however eating lunch in my car everyday is starting to get a little old. Actually, today I braved the cafeteria and sat ironically, in the middle of the room at an empty table. I literally chose the middle table which is not something I was comfortable with. Busied with mathematics, I hardly noticed the things or people around me, i simply enjoyed the air conditioned room. Before leaving I purchased a frappacino and some advil and received free chapstic from some advertising committee. It's very ho-hum isn't it? The most exciting part of my day was trying to get a bee out of my backseat without looking like a fool. (I remained calm, but still looked ridiculous in the process) I miss everyone terribly. I tried to laugh at myself and then felt the lump in my throat again. I have my good days and my bad days just like everyone else, but sometimes I really wish I had someone to laugh with/at me. The above song epitomizes my thoughts about coming and going. Love it. New obsession.

and she had a guardian angel

I have a guardian angel named Rachel. At least that's what the palm-reader at our Grad Night some months back told me. I thought it strange that she'd bring it up randomly during our session. As far as I know, nobody else had been told of their guardians. The woman told me clearly and matter-of-factually that her name is Rachel and that she wants me to know that I can ask things of her. (important things I'm assuming...otherwise I'd have an air-conditioner in my house). I didn't really know what to think of the little red stick figure she'd drawn quickly on my piece of paper to represent Rachel, in fact, it was something I couldn't wrap my mind around. Here's the thing though: I should have been in a car accident by now. Sounds weird and terrible, but there have been too many close calls to call it coincidence and move on. I assure you that I am a safe driver...it's the others on the road. There have been many a time where people have cut me off so closely that my heart raced and the hairs on my arm stood up, times where people come out of nowhere and give me little time to react, or times where someone runs a stop sign, just missing me. In fact, the day I found out about Rachel, I was very nearly and quite remarkably missed by a woman who flew through a stop sign and hit the brakes seconds before hitting me. Each time I find myself in the midst of a close call, I picture Rachel sitting in the passenger's seat and her name come directly to mind. It's weird I know. I probably sound like a nut, but some part of me was re-awakened at the discovery of my Guardian angel. (this was also around the time I questioned faith and all that is mysterious above) I believe she is real, my own personal angel who has probably saved me countless times before and is now just that intangible force that gets me home safe. Thanks Rachel.

"Eternally Unimpressed"

"I just look eternally unimpressed so I wouldn’t be surprised if someone saw me walking through the halls looking super-moody and found out all this stuff I do and jumped to conclusions...But it’s just the way my face looks and not how I really feel. I do smile, sometimes."- Tavi Gevinson
She's only fifteen and she has sat front row at New York Fashion week. I discovered her today, but she's been on the scene for three years already. I'd hate to lower myself to the self-description of a fifteen year old, but she pretty much hit the nail on the head here. She inadvertently described me with all of the above. She said it so well "I just look eternally unimpressed" something I've been trying to put into words for people my whole life. I'm always asked why I'm upset, angry, or bothered,when I'm actually not. I'm just eternally unimpressed. I haven't the stimuli to walk around with a hammy smile on my face, I haven't the need for it either. I'm relatively content, I have what I need and know what I want (kinda), but this girl seems to have it all figured out. She knows who she is at 15 years old. The way she behaves and speaks in interviews is beyond me, I never could of dreamed of having that vernacular at 15. "It's just the way my face looks and not how I really feel" Christ, she's got it. I'd like to meet this girl, apparently, she dyed her hair grey for a whole year because she thought it was awesome and at the expense of the judgements of her classmates. She doesn't give a shit which is why she deserves an honorary post on my blog (even though her blog it ten trillion times cooler and more popular than mine) She's one of the greats in teenage culture. Kudos to you Tavi for figuring me out before I did.

"Cradled In My Bed of Bones"

If there was ever a pure beauty in this world it would belong to a young woman, age twenty-one. She has a soft voice that echoes the world around. She is delicate and hardened, wise and youthful, serious and loving. She has held me for two years with accented vocals that lift my heart to the forefront and tears it to shreds all at the same time. According to an article, I've come to the conclusion that she sold her soul to a butterfly and is quite contented in her decision to do so. I sometimes spend and hour or so trying to wrap my mind around her talent, around her ability to awaken the living dead with songs about just that. I wonder how my life would be without Miss Marling (as I often refer to her as) and how I feel as if I know her and can become her through soft melodies with unsuspected pick-ups. I will get to see Laura Marling in sixteen days at the Troubadour in West Hollywood. I expect this experience to be life-changing and thus, have pre-ordered her September 13 album on iTunes as soon as I realized I wouldn't be able to live without it. It is with the tip from a friend that I found the songs were released early and so,  I spent this Sunday with this world's purest beauty.

The Roxy

It felt like a scene from "Fright Night" (the original), like a handsome and irresistible vampire would come strolling through the concert crowd to bite me. The lights were loud and bright, a large box stereo hung on the wall, and the floor was black so it felt as if I were dancing on a black hole. Dingy red curtains lifted and fell between bands, and my eyes kept wandering to the attractive bassist of "Life Down Here" as he and the rest of his band joined the crowd after their set. It wasn't my typical crowd, many a gay lover danced, kissed, and rocked out together, but I was content. It was just different is all. Some women looked uncannily like men and one guy wore a skirt. Some had mohawks and others had the cutest short hair ever. It was fun.
The three head-liners were made up of the "Lady Killer Tour" and were these extremely badass women who sang about relationships, sex, and being super badass all the time. By the time the band we had gone to see was on, it was 11 p.m. and the Roxy was alive. My feet felt as if they'd give out and I was nodding off to sleep despite the ear-splitting music. A disco ball threw leopard print shaped lights across the floor and faces of those hanging out around the stage (including all the bands who just hung out in the crowd). I bought a T-shirt with a half-eaten gingerbread man on it and then was on my way. We had to stop by L.A. Ink shop on the way home to see the place that made body art famous and stopped at two In-N-Outs, being turned away from both (they close at 1:30 a.m.) and settled for a kids grilled cheese at Jack In the Box. Satisfied. Though I barely knew any of the bands or songs playing at this concert, it did do one thing for me, it updated my bucket list. "Play at the Roxy" is now on my bucket list. That venue is so sick. Not to mention that it's in the heart of L.A., but the stage is great and I could see me and my brother up there playing quiet yet toe-tapping songs for the small crowd that would meander in. I got more out of last night than I thought I would! Time to go sleep off the 2a.m. bedtime.

When she smiles the whole world stops and takes a deep breath of fresh air.
-Something I thought of before bed

"1-2-3"

A little girl in a sparkly hat stood and watched me nervously as a girl in thick makeup and drawn-on eyebrows wielded a piercing gun. I sat straight and poised, but with nervous eyes locked on a friend who tried pathetically to make distracting conversation. I squeezed my purple wallet from Barney's and prayed that the pain wouldn't be what others had said it was. The girl drew dots and handed me a mirror to check them in, but in truth, I didn't even care where the earrings went in, I just wanted it done. She counted "1-2-3" and on the "3", I heard a click and felt pain. Instinctively, my head slightly jerked away  and I said "ouch!". It was only instinctively because I was ready for the second one, ready and almost excited to have it relatively painless. "1-2-3" the second stainless steel ball shot through my ear. Then it was done. I laughed nervously and looked down at the little girl saying "that didn't hurt at all". She got hers done shortly afterwards (the lobes not cartilage). I'm glad I did it, I sold two of my poorly chosen college text books for a rip off of $27 to scrounge for cartilage piercing money. (I paid...$200 some for them, but the clerk assured me $27 was all it was worth since new editions were coming out). I sold, (it's just money right?) and I marched into Clair's and after signing some wavers and showing ID, I was branded with bad-assery. Hazah!

"Things aren't so bad, they're just harder until they get better"