My Ghoulish Ways

Happy Halloween!
   I am currently slouched on the couch covered in faux-fur blankets watching Ghost Hunters Live. Yeahp. I decided I'll be a witch, but I've also decided that I'm too lazy to venture into the garage and search for the witch hat that will potentially, actually, be in a dump somewhere...three years ago. We didn't decorate this year, usually we put up the hundreds of dollars worth of decorations out that are unfitting for the majority age of our block. Instead, my mom and sister carved pumpkins that should be featured on Yahoo! entitled "Holy shit, someone actually carved this, it's amazing." I didn't carve, because my faces always cave in or look like the nazi from Indiana Jones whose face melted. I did, however, dress festively in a black & orange dress with black tights to school, which is apparently unheard of, because everyone else dressed regularly. No orange, black, or bat earrings...nothing. That was my nightmare. I also put my diet on hold and ate a snickers from the candy bowl, and will probably steal a good majority of the candy that my niece/nephews collect tonight. Probably. I hope everyone else is getting along well, I hope everyone else is eating candy all night, and most of all, I hope there are some awesome parties going on, unlike here: It's deadsville. No pun intended.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN

I Crave

i woke up this morning from a comatose-like sleep. The kind that quietly peeled back the sheets from my mattress and buried me under the heavy. I woke up to bright light and worn carpet, which scritch-scratched my toes as I dragged them like the undead. It is early morning, four hours of sleep caressed my eyelids and kept them sealed shut. I had happy dreams that came in the form of Polaroid photos with the faces of friends and family on them. There were blurbs and flashes of memories that have since passed in brilliantly softened color.
   Work is going to be a challenge today, in fact, everything is going to be a challenge today with my body so desperately yearning rest. I think it anticipated the hectic week ahead before I did: a new work position, classes, homework undone, lectures to hear, papers to write, costumes to make, people to please, weight to lose. Meanwhile, I'm debating the things that will effect my schooling, which in turn, will mix the paint of my personal life.
"Color my life with the chaos of trouble"- Belle & Sebastian
I ought to wish everyone a Happy and safe Halloween. Scare them ghouls!

d'hiver

I'm hoping for a trip back to San Francisco, the place that seized four hearts. I'm hoping for a cold road in the best possible sense. and bundles of blankets in the back seat. I'm hoping for some chump change to come with my new server position at the diner and to make it there, this time, with a better sense of things. That's almost an ambivalent thing to say really. I could want to go back and know: this is where we should stay, this part of town is better, these streets are less crowded, this corner is best for taxis, but on the other hand, the sense of not knowing was one of the best feelings ever. I'm hoping winter break will not only bring home the people I've been missing, but will bring part II of our road trip that has become such an iconic part of our lives thus far. It never got old there. Almost like Peter Pan's Neverland, each experience never seemed to age. We could walk around Chinatown for hours going in and out of odd shops, or repeatedly visit Fisherman's Wharf because we wanted to. It was sheer freedom, sheer whatever we wanted to do when we wanted to. Dress up and get milkshakes next door, put on red lipstick and walk three blocks to God knows where, and have our minds blown at the enormity of commercial shopping. Guh, there is too much of a pull. I need, I need, I need, I want to go back. Small things trigger memories, like when I'm driving on the freeway and see a Silver Chevrolet Charger. Or, when the fog rolls in here and I think of our last morning there; standing in the white "dining room" with all the European tourists, making toast and plopping a cold hard-boiled egg onto my plate. Making coffee/tea runs when we felt too restless to stay in the hotel, staying up until two o'clock to talk too loudly. We had it all for three days and nothing seemed like it would ever go wrong again. Even in forty years, I don't think I'll ever say: "gosh, remember our road trip to San Francisco? I wish I could remember everything, but it's such a blur!" because I remember everything. Ripping my pants at the Exploratorium, eating plastic-wrapped sandwiches on a bench, laying in the grass outside Ghiradelli Square, just observing, just being. Dear winter break, please put us on the road again.

Plated Color

Voila! Summer Squash and Jalapeno/cranberry meatballs. Granted, I didn't make the meatballs, aside from cooking them, but fret not, because I did make the summer squash. I've been trying to get back on track, get back to the good ol' days, three years ago, when I was a size 3. Yep, you read it right. Anyways, back to the food. I made this delicious dish and took pictures, because that's what I do with my Thursdays.

Prep! Prep! Hooray! Here's a how-to: I cut the squash into thin circles, and put them in a hot pan that was drizzled with olive oil. Let 'em soften and sprinkle those beaus with salt & pepper. Let simmer.

Meanwhile, the meatballs are heating on another pan for...until they're hot. (the time is on the package and I'm too lazy to check for you.Also, they're pre-cooked) Coming off of being a vegetarian has never tasted so good.

Here comes the fun and dangerous part. I sprinkled pieces of Parmesan cheese on the summer squash. This is pretty much a must and I'll tell you why: The cheese gives flavor and texture that the otherwise and admittedly bland veggie wouldn't have on its own (sorry squash!) I made a big mess of my mom's pan with the cheese, it kinda burnt onto the pan so make sure you turn the heat off and wait a sec before sprinkling. Plate it.

What's up Gordon Ramsay? Just kidding, that guy is for.real. For the record, it was delicious and for the record, if this is where healthy starts, well bring it on!
Bon Appetite

I've been looking at this picture for a week or so now. I love it. I'm enthralled by the busy calm of it. Ahh, a cold drink of inspiration.

Handful of Beans

my face gets red over the silliest things or when it's hot. Sometimes I get nervous around teenagers when I'm vain enough to think they're whispering about me. I toss grapes in the air and catch them unless you're handsome, and then I miss. My muscles get tight when I think about things too hard and I cry when I feel alone and whine when I'm not. I don't know a girl named India and her name feels weird when said aloud, her eyes are brown in the mirror when a hair is caught in between her eyelashes. I try too hard when I want someone to watch and when I don't, they watch anyways. Sometimes I flirt and fall flat and sometimes I knit and someone will think that's great, and hey! what's that? I'll see a movie and grab a sleeve, rarely a boy's sleeve, but sometimes it is one. Sometimes I lie to be cute and tell the truth so that I'll be left alone. I make faces in the mirror (triple chin!), I stare at my short legs, wiggle my toes and stick a Q-tip in my ears.I hug my grandma, trip over a rug, want a boy, wish for better bone-structure, play the guitar, feel great, fail a test, and eat chocolate. I am many things, but like a wool puzzle, it's tough to put together, too squishy, too scratchy. I like to crawl under tables and reward my nephew jellybeans for giving hugs and I like to eat casserole with my hands right out of the hot dish. All of these things, enough to make one person, one human with detestable, lovable, silly, crazy characteristics, but I haven't had the time to say "hey you, how are you? Nice to meet you...who are you again? Why do you act different for her, him, sir, misses? When will you just be you all the time?" Because, I like brown eyes and jellybeans too.

Red Waves of Grace

  


Oh, to be a long-legged bomb-shell named Florence

Paranormal-I'll-Never-Sleep-Again-Activity 3

The entire theater was tense, girls clinging to their boyfriends, and me clinging to my friend in sheer terror. I screamed out loud and flinched at every creaking floor-board (with good reason). The movie was intense, terrifying, the best of the series. It was "Paranormal Activity 3". Half the movie was watched through my knit beanie as I pulled it over my eyes with one hand and plugged my right ear with the other. My face in her face, I was nearly sitting atop my poor friend who screamed and winced just as I did. It was hard to breath and very stressful. It was violent, terrifying, and suspenseful, it was my nightmare. The good thing is that I won't be able to have an actual nightmare, because I won't be sleeping. I'm currently watching every show on my DVR and eating brownies. Yep, good ol' Thursday night. Sometimes the scare is worth the fun. ;) BOO!

Hit & Run

What could it be? The simple notion that whatever comes to mind will be the binding thought that keeps you writing from the tip of your tongue? I am not sleep-walking like I thought I was, because I think back to the warm and twisted roads that led us further and further away from home. Headed into the known place down the unknown path that kept us reeling with excitement and love for the openness that we witnessed. It's an essence that swirls into my mind with sepia tones, relegating it to the place and time we'd still like to be living in. I have not been dead all these years like I sometimes think, I am observing. Looking, not judging, watching his & her mistakes, his & her successes, loves, heartbreaks, turmoil, happiness, rudeness, oddity, etc..etc..etc.. I am laughing at a message from a friend, learning to not be afraid of answers a-d and choosing "all of the above" when it feels right. I know for certain the things I wish I could have, the feeling of warmth that seemingly disappeared behind the car as we went back to point A and the destination was drawn in red on a little glass screen. Sometimes I find immense amounts of time to wonder "Why me?" But who else? I consider the saying one person's misfortune will be your blessing to be a misfortune in itself. I could never consider it a blessing had it caused someone else misfortune. I am losing time in my depression at things that won't matter and things that will matter. I am getting itchy bumps from stress and longing, but I am alive in those small oddities. I think back to the warm Styrofoam cup of tea outside of the hotel, watching the street move with red, blue, green, white, black, skin-color, legs, wheels, horns. It moved, and at night it danced. I miss the ease of wronged lyrics, the silliness of space, the heat, air, fields, gas stations, danger, living. I am living, but I've never lived so much as the sepia memories keep reminding me. I miss miss miss miss miss the feeling that came with a packed bag full of nonsense and a car-full of loving, silly, sweaty, smiling faces. It is this that reminds me that I will have more to come, perhaps I am just driving through a desert plateau.

A Comment a Day...

It's funny what can make one's day. For example, I have a midterm today on non-human primates, their subdivisions, their culture, behavior, anatomy, diet, and fossil dating techniques. I started studying around 5:30p.m. last night, and went to bed by 9 ( not recommended) . I woke up this morning and have been trying to study with little motivation, but alas, I continue to stare at my notes in hopes that my mind is telling the page to "say cheese" and is then encoding everything in the front part of my brain. Probably not. HOWEVER, despite my nervousness for the impending "below average" grade that I will no doubt receive, a simple comment sort of made things better. It was from this girl, Alessi. She is currently my inspiration and on constant replay in my car's stereo system. I met her at Laura Marling's concert and made a comment on one of her pictures, thanking her for being so amazing (that was the gist). I never really expected a reply back, but:
"you're most welcome for the drawing, it was lovely to meet you both"
Monkeys who? Yeah, yeah it wasn't any long paragraph about how she'd like me to jump on her next tour and open for her and the ark, but it made my day nonetheless. I look up to the girl, and so this test on primates seems a little less ominous for whatever reason. It just got a little brighter, because humble is as humble does and despite her immense amounts of talent, Alessi made time for the "little people" such as I, and so I guess I should go out of my way for the monkeys and apes too. 

take a listen!

A "10" Moment

ahhh, good people. I like the good ones, the ones that will do almost everything just so that we can do it together. Like, sit in a diner and talk about an alternate lifestyle, where we're free and no one has to wear a bra. Or, drive the foggy city around and wish we were headed to the 101. We say "do it"  "let's do it" "ah, I wish" "it's gonna happen" "what should we do?" "let's go here". It felt simple again, it felt right and back to the basics where our biggest problem was deciding where to eat. Our biggest goal was to get to a city ten hours away, and our worst fear was what sits at the present time: separation.
   It's hard when it feels so real for only a short time and then we must go back to auto-pilot to get to the next real moment. A family friend (who is rather bossy, yet successful) told me that my job is school and that I can't enjoy my life until I get through it.  Bullshit. Because, I do enjoy my life, not for a long span of time, but I have these kinds of moments when school is on the back burner and I leave the kitchen to play. I leave my books in my trunk and cease to believe that I have a midterm tomorrow that I haven't even studied for. I skip class for these moments, sleep longer, play more, spend more money, and forget.
   Now we're back to shuffling along until the moment when we can run: Thanksgiving. I can't wait for that moment, thank you for everything. Thank you for the breath of fresh air and the reminder that I still maintain the capacity to be completely satisfied with life.

I.P

Like a sigh of  relief, everything normal came washing back over us.Everything seemed lighter, better...despite the impending doom of midterms. Things are just better this way.

Mens Fashion Edition

I have a slight obsession with mens fashion. In the classy sense, of course. I love a man who can put on an outfit that just makes him look sharp, even when he has nowhere to go. Now, I don't necessarily mean a suit and tie straight out of bed, because I also love the effortless look of a T-shirt and jeans. Sometimes, yes, sometimes, I like to mimic it. This post may seem random, but seriously, take a look at these fine gents:

I especially like these guys

@thesartorialist

Do it! dress like a guy every now and again...some of them know what they're doing. ;)

Mistakes We Knew We Were Making

When does the time come when you thank God for the traits you so foolishly ignore in yourself? Is it when you're holding your sobbing best friend in your arms outside of an amusement park? Is it when you have to swallow the venom bubbling up in your throat to keep from killing the person who's words were so hurtful? Or is it when you have to watch a terrible nightmare over and over and over again without more than a whisper to try and stop the train-full of pain on its way. I have watched my best friend go from bad to worse with boyfriends and tonight I couldn't even verbally explain it without stumbling through my words in a frustrated jumble. SO, here's a letter to her that will hopefully more clearly explain it.

Dear A,
   For as long as I've known you, much of our friendship has revolved around boys. Not on my part, but on yours. I always admired your mysterious allure that caught the attention of the nerd or the jock alike. Tonight solidified what I've feared most in you. I always feared that my love, care, friendship, sisterhood, and pure adoration wouldn't be enough to sustain that insecure part of you that couldn't be quenched. I know because I see how badly you need him. I saw you lose it and take off running through the dark parking lot, bawling, yelping, moaning, as you cried because he's made everything all your fault. I held you tightly telling you, begging you, to see that it has never been your fault, that this time, listen to your best friend and know she wouldn't lie. Know, that it's not only unfair for you to go through these awful relationships, but also for me. I have had to watch as bruises showed up on your arms, cheeks, waist. I have had to watch as they yell at you or turn you into a smoking couch-potato. I have watched as they've used you and left you wobbling and somber, and I've watched as you look away when I pull with my teeth to get you to come to the other side. You won't budge. Why? When I'm right here, always waiting to catch you, lift you off the floor, drive you home, text you back, stay with you. Why would you need someone like him? You've had two "goodies" during the time span that I've known you (5 years) TWO. You've had many more boyfriends than that, but only two of them were worth it. They were the shortest lived. I would have given anything for the one who worked at the pizzaria, anything. He was sweet, a family oriented guy, smart, funny, handsome, etc... I was so jealous of you. He lasted about a month before you threw him off to date your current boyfriend. Why? I need you to be more for me now. I've put up with a lot of shit. Think that's selfish? Well, it's not because I have never faltered as your friend. I have never left even when you did the worst thing possible that one friend could do to another. I stuck around, because that's my job as your friend and I love you. I can't watch these scenes play out anymore, I can't believe that you're letting your mental health go to the shit over an adolescent boy. He's a boy not a man. He'll go just like the others did, eventually, but who will be here? Me. You've given him too much already, but when the time comes, try to hold on to something and learn a lesson instead of hitting repeat.
   Despite the fact that you hate being single (it would appear), there is someone out there for you just like there is for me. Look! I've gone 18 years without being in love, without a boyfriend, without a kiss. I'm fine. Yeah, sometimes I wish for it, but I know that the wait means only the best is yet to come. So, wait with me. It gets pretty lonely over here. Wait for him, and he will come along when you least expect it, and I pray to God he will make both of our lives a hell of a lot easier. 

requiem

and baby when the wind blows it'll carry your basket with nothing to share.
i'm hoping that the babes know when to weep and when to stare.
There's a woman on the side of the road that I call home
she's got a head full of snakes and  turns her gent's face to stone.
take me back to when the moon owned the sky in purple delight with the stars lightin' up faces
remember the times when your father could see and took you places
Only the Lord knows what we all go through at the same moment in time
But baby I'll be home soon so don't you cry.

play this!

I want a warm embrace with a deep voice attached to the neck...and  hot chocolate.
  

Jungle Book

I overheard a conversation from the front of my math class between a lady and a gent. It went something like this:
"Yeah, and I had to go to the doctor because of the spider bite."
-"Oh, really? What kind of spider? Where were you?"
"Oh, I was like, in the jungle...I didn't see what kind"
-"South America?"
"No, Irvine...you know the back part of Irvine has all those trees..." 
So, there you have it. To "us" OC people, the jungle means a highly populated city.

Let me see the world.

Dear Life,

I've been writing and improvising, working, and thinking. My brother helps me with guitar and tells me to practice when he's gone so we can move forward. I've nearly built callouses on my fingers already, which is oddly exciting for me. If I could ask this life for one thing it'd be to please let me play. Please don't trap me and spindle me into a web of "must-dos". I have to work harder to get to the place where I can be ready to step up and play for people and crowds alike. I want to work for something inspiring, something that will give me pleasure instead of something that will be expected, manufactured, reeled in, and spit out. My mom seems to understand me a little better since "Words" was published. She seems to want to be that nurturing being that she hasn't always been, but now she sees. My thoughts are that she won't understand 100%, however, until I play for her. Play and sing and not think, so that I can show her that this is what I want to love, stress over, cry over, laugh over, live!!! This, not a math exam, a psychology paper, or my notes on non-human primates. My voice, my fingers, my strums, my tempo, my words. 
   I need to pay more attention in my music theory class, it drives me nuts. I don't understand, comprehend, or get why it all has to be so complicated, but then I remembered: If I want this, I have to face some points of difficulty and not expect everything to be easy all the time. Hence, the working harder strategy. I'd like to write down my notes instead of recording the song on my laptop and playing from ear. I'd like to have something to show as well as play. It's an ambivalent relationship we share. But, it makes things better all the time, always.
**P.S. the "Norman" soundtrack comes out tomorrow! Go get some of that Andrew Bird!

liveLIVElIvELIveLIVElive

Paint

You know that woman from my last post? Well, last night I found out that today was her last day at work. She's quitting. She said this: "People keep asking me why I'm quitting. The thing is that I don't know, I don't have a reason. I just want to paint again, sleep in, go to the park...I'm just so over this."  In my mind I wondered how is she going to pay bills? but then I remembered that she's a saver, she saves to travel, and now that tucked away money will allow her to get her life back. Another waitress (in her late 30's) walked up and said this: "My husband and I were wondering the same thing. Is this what life is? Work to pay the bills?" No. No it is not. But it is that way for so many people, because as they say: money makes the world go 'round. That's the greatest shame of our time really. She's quitting to paint and to walk around her own little world without needing to need money. She'll be okay with her savings and with her boyfriend still having his job. She's guaranteed security at this job, she can always come back. That goes for most all the workers really, at least those who leave peacefully.
   I'm sitting with a little gray kitten in my lap, planning to put on red lipstick before I go out tonight. That's all I know. I don't want to quit my job (I was told the manager plans to promote me within the next few weeks) I don't know what's going to happen with school, but I know that I'd also like to make time to "paint" (i.e. do the things I love to do because I love to do them)

Hippie Days

Today I talked with a fellow server at work . I asked her what her life was like (she doesn't attend a college) I asked her this because she's always smiling, always laughing. Always bouncing around with a messy bun and no bra...a hippie. I asked her how her life is so fruitful and if she regrets not going to college. This is the gist of what I was told:
"I don't regret not going. In fact, now that I'm older I'm finding that I have interests I didn't have back then...for example, I really want to take a photography class! You know, I took a year at a community college and it just wasn't for me..like a gut instinct. That's what my mom taught us growing up, and I'm so thankful she brought us up this way. She taught us to live by instinct, to follow them. I'm so content India, I'm in a really good place in my life. What I do is I work for a living so that I can travel all around the world. I backpacked through New Zealand for a month alone. No friends, no family, no nothing. Just me, wandering around the open space. My brothers are musicians and they bar tend on the side. One of my brothers is thirty-two and he's just going back to college because he realized how much he needed to learn to further his music career, but both are very happy with their lives, playing gigs etc..There needs to be more people like me and you India. More people who aren't so caught up in the stress that society puts on us and who just would like to live their lives. I am fully supportive of you." That's the gist, we talked for about an hour and I could tell that both of us were relieved that the subject came up. I won't base everything off of what she told me today, but you should see this girl. She lives happily because she made a decision to be happy. She took her life into her own hands. She's in love, she has a place, she has enough to get by and then some, she has friends, family etc...It felt good to talk. I'm not sure what I'll be doing. My mom sent a second email to tell me that she understands that college isn't for everyone, but that I must have a plan so that I'm not eating leftovers out of a back alley way trashcan. That's reasonable.

Words

Yelling and screaming never helps. Even if you think it will, it won't. It jumbles up words that get strewn across the floor in an angry muddle of misshapen phrases and misunderstood mistakes. It's hard when the elders don't want things that you do. My mother cannot be convinced of the things that she does not understand. We fought to no ends, where running to my car never felt so good, so frantic. Where, my breathing picked up to a pace too rapid for my chest and my lungs until, bent over the couch, I could not form a thought.
   This morning was an email from my mother apologizing and explaining the choices she's made. How, she doesn't regret meeting my deadbeat father because he was the reason we get to be alive for her. How, she dropped out of college twice, was able to pick whatever school she wanted (due to my grandparent's financial security) and wasted the opportunity. She took something that her future daughter would die for and threw it away because of foolishness. I read the entire email that explained how she felt about our current financial insecurities, how she wishes she could do more, but there is nothing that that situation will be lenient on more than it already has. She said she wants me to be happy and she wants the world for me, but that I'm going to have to stick it out here for a little while longer. I wrote back: I told her how my life is not comprised of happiness as it should be and that it is in no way her fault. I explained that college isn't panning out to be for me. I told her how I'd rather be broke and playing the piano in the Den than sitting in another class. How, I've succumbed to a zombie-like existence of roaming around for some unknown sustenance.  How, I appreciate everything she's done, but something has got to give in order to get me on track.  Finally, we were honest with each other. Finally, I told her everything that has been pent up and she told me her views on our lives. I don't know if it will fix anything, but at least it's in the open, at least I know that there are somethings that she will never be able to go back on and the same goes for me. I know I need to try harder to get somewhere, but like I told her, I feel like there's something bigger meant for me that they can't teach me in school. It was just one of those nights.

For the Doers

For that place in the city

Waiting on Norman

Take a look at Norman. It looks to be a promising film with a thought provoking storyline. What's better is the fact that it is Andrew Bird's original score that will guide the movie's emotions along. I'm very excited and HEY! If you go to his website you can get "Hospital" for free. This is one movie I am thoroughly interested to see. I think maybe Dan Byrd is going to make my "favorite actors" list after this one. He was getting there as the gay friend in "Easy A", but now the leading man is showing what he's got. October 21, I will be patient for thee.

Call(h)er

Dear Late Night Caller,

   Thank you for talking with me. Sometimes I don't realize the amount of weight I carry in my mind until someone asks me about it. Last night helped a lot. I usually dread Wednesdays due to the mass of classes and the long hours each one holds, but I woke up a little better today knowing that it's not just me who's finding the college thing...less than what was expected. It's good to know you can move around like a little monopoly piece until contentedness cuddles up warm in your lap. It's good to know that despite the waves of shit that whirl and roll through our every days, we'll be here. We'll endure it until something else comes along and picks us up in an "A-Ha!" moment. It's good to know that you have me figured out and I have you figured out at a comfortable point of reference. It's nice to know that someone sees the other side of societal necessity, the kind that is interaction, progression, and independence aside from the ho-hum plan of school, school, school, college, school, save, save, live at home, save, move etc...I'm happy to know that we won't judge each others' views on our standing points in life, that it's okay not feel sociable all the time, to take pictures of how great this college thing is, to party, to date around, to hook-up. I'm glad we find solitude and companionship to be complimenting aspects that distance themselves in friendly manners. You make me feel like all the uncertain paraphernalia that floats like a flooded room in my head will at some point settle into the wet carpet and form a life. You make me feel like it will all be okay. It's sounding corny now, but that's what it is, cut  and dry.  I guess what it is, is that I miss everything that was, but together I think we'll be like two drunk vikings and hike through this voyage of a thing we call life. We'll do it our way, and we'll have to do it separately, but we'll still be going on together. Tusen takk.

Future from 1-10

I'd like to say that I'm prepared to dive into some awesome career with guns blazing. I'd like to say that I know precisely what I'm good at and that I've harnessed the skills needed to be a "go-getter" and to take the classes I need to be a _______________. Truth is, I have no clue. Journalism? Yeah I would love it. To work for a magazine and write about what a girl needs to be ultimately the most attractive being inside and out. Or, what Alexander McQueen's team is sending down the runway these days. Perhaps I should just make a list of possibilities to organize things a bit? Okay, here goes:

1. Musician
2. Journalist (fashion or in the media)
3.  Wardrobe stylist (personal or on-set)
4. Publicist 
5. Writer
6. Executive Producer for a live broadcasting telecast
7. Actor
8. "Person who styles mannequins in retail store"
9. Buyer for department stores
10. Music Coordinator (for film) 


Alright, that's a good start non? The list is in no particular order after the first three. I sense a pattern which mostly involves the creative mind mixed with a little concrete, but nothing that guarantees a big fat paycheck at the end of the day. That's because I've given up on those terms. Being in college, and in certain classes I took for the sake of taking, I've realized that I will not survive in an environment that I do not love completely and wholly. No, most people don't love class, and I am in no way different. What I am trying to apply is that if I took something for the money I know I'd receive, I'd be miserable and drown. Let me have my piano, a good fashion magazine, a well put-together outfit, good people,  or a great movie....something to eat, and a roof. I'm set. I need my creative outlet like most people, but to build a future around that is something else entirely, but I'm committed to the idea.
    I'm just talking.

It's Kind of a Funny Story

"I still need to face my homework, my school, my friends. My dad. But the difference between today and last Saturday is that for the first time in a while, I can look forward to the things I want to do in my life. Bike, eat, drink, talk. Ride the subway, read, read maps. Make maps, make art. Finish the Gates application. Tell my dad not to stress about it. Hug my mom. Kiss my little sister. Kiss my dad. Make out with Noelle. Make out with her more. Take her on a picnic. See a movie with her. See a movie with Aaron. Heck, see a movie with Nia. Have a party. Tell people my story. Volunteer at 3 North. Help people like Bobby. Like Muqtada. Like me. Draw more. Draw a person. Draw a naked person. Draw Noelle naked. Run, travel, swim, skip. Yeah, I know it's lame, but, whatever. Skip anyway. Breathe... Live" 

Today I watched "It's Kind of a Funny Story." Have you seen it? I like it. I like the concept of young troubles being taken seriously. A certain level of maturity was brought to it by "Craig"'s decision to check himself into an institution due to his thoughts of self-harm. There, he meets the kooks who  turn out to be interesting people with interesting lives despite the hindrances born into them or developed over time. Did I mention the music is spectacular?  I immediately sat up when "Blood" by The Middle East, which I've spoken of before began playing. It's all well placed and well received if I may say so myself. The acting is good, a good change for Zach Galifianakis who kept the humor but harnessed the seriousness. BUT my favorite part of the movie was this tidbit from the end. It tugged at my heartstrings as I found that this movie came at exactly the right time for me. Do one thing at a time and start with each breath. All day I've been documenting myself to make sure that I'm aware of the little things "Okay, right now I'm just breathing, and in a second I will finish writing this sentence" There. Somehow it brings a sense of contentedness with it. It makes one feel more grateful I guess, or that's what it made me feel like today. You can bet I'll be referencing it on days like today when I flunked my second math test in a row. *takes a bow. 

Here's to Health...Aaaaagain

I've made a lot of promises to myself concerning my body.  I'm gonna lose weight, I won't eat bad, I will only eat good etc...I'm such a liar you guys. I blame these last two weeks on nature (take it as you will) which has driven me to crave, crave, crave, and give in, give in, give in. Stress from school also messes with my habits. I eat to relax myself. Sad? yes.Uncommon? No. I'm not going to promise anything, in fact, I'm not even going to get into it. All I'm saying is that I will stop eating the shit I have been and continue working out. That's it. No strict diet plan, no complicated regimes , nothing. Just your average girl seeking a healthy lifestyle. I'd like to stop being terrified of my jeans and I'd like to stop secretly hating girls half my size. Okay. I am excited to announce my trip to Trader Joes tomorrow so that I may buy my own things to assist my choices that my sister will not be able to consume (because I paid for it.) That's the rule around here, although she did eat my cereal last week. Tomorrow is a new day. Tomorrow I can start something new with myself. Deep breath for tomorrow.

Amber After

When I was little, we had an Amber tree in our front yard. Everyone climbed in it to harvest the "pricker" balls that could be thrown at friends for hours of painful fun. It had been there for as long as I could remember and the changing of the leaves was the only sign that this beach town went through seasons at all. Every time I'd walk by it, I'd let my hand brush across its rough bark just as a reminder that it was here, that we were one of the few lots to be graced with this big lovely tree. There was this "gang" of kids from the other side of the block who had spread a rumor to the other kids that our mother was a "floating witch with red eyes", that they'd seen her gravitating over our fence one day, eyes a-glow. My sister and I collected all the pricker balls we could hold in our shirts and confronted these misleading hooligans by ambushing them. The air was littered with pricker balls soaring left and right. The rumors stopped. I loved that tree.
Time went on and suddenly the roots became a hassle to the homeowners. They were growing into waterlines causing issues for...people who were not us. Ironic, since it was on our lot. They cut the tree down and replaced it was a puny palm tree that I hated. It represented nothing. It showed no seasons, it did not contain subtle weapons. When they cut it down I salvaged a small disk from the trunk that had been sliced up in some terrible, toothy machine. I think I cried a little and stashed it away in my drawer. I like trees. I don't take enough time to appreciate them. I feel like it was symbolic when they cut down this huge beautiful tree of my childhood and replaced it with a scrawny scratchy palm tree that haunts my everyday...yard. I can now relate it to that movie "Flipped" where the girl protests and cries and sits in the tree, only I did one of those things and am not a white suburban adolescent. I don't really have a point here, I'm just saying that trees are cooler than they are credited for. That tree was probably here before we were and then they just chopped it down because the tree had no voice. "It's better to help [trees] than garden gnomes"
 adieu