Sunday, December 11, 2011
Inside-Out
Necessity was absent for the birth of the dictionary. The right words never seemed to come when faced with an actual confrontation. The ideas stumbled over themselves in her brain until they beat a retreat to the land of the lost, where no phrase could ever find the way to express them. It was as if they were meant to be turned out raw, like meat waiting to be tenderized and cut apart before being cooked in searing hot oil or thrown onto a steaming grill. They were still clinging to that last bit of life; where they owned a share but never had to pay a visit to the tenants. They bled out like water, but refused to congeal even enough to be seen under a microscope. As they were covered by the dust, she slowly forgot, but could always see the embossed titles on the hard covers of thoughts never to be destroyed, and only reopened years later, when the reader could no longer be sure of the meanings.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
When My Life Will Be Complete:
- When I have a hedgehog
- When it plays out like a romantic comedy
- When I have a hedgehog
Saturday, December 3, 2011
This is the Last For the Night
I promise.
I just figured y'all should know that since there's a novel's worth of writing that I posted tonight, you shouldn't start reading with this post.
Well, actually, scratch that. You should.
Because if you read this post, you'll know to read the rest of the posts in reverse order.
Because I'm going to tell you.
They'll make more sense if you read them in the order that I actually posted them, as I did in fact organize these poems into a pseudo-series that doesn't really make sense if you read it backward.
Read them. Love them. Comment on them.
I just figured y'all should know that since there's a novel's worth of writing that I posted tonight, you shouldn't start reading with this post.
Well, actually, scratch that. You should.
Because if you read this post, you'll know to read the rest of the posts in reverse order.
Because I'm going to tell you.
They'll make more sense if you read them in the order that I actually posted them, as I did in fact organize these poems into a pseudo-series that doesn't really make sense if you read it backward.
Read them. Love them. Comment on them.
Absolom
Don't you wish you could see it all
like the signs on the side of the road
saying "fog may exist."
The tide rolls in
obscured by the paper
with no ink of retreat
and no hand holding the pen
to show it all stretched out.
Don't you wish
you could see it all?
like the signs on the side of the road
saying "fog may exist."
The tide rolls in
obscured by the paper
with no ink of retreat
and no hand holding the pen
to show it all stretched out.
Don't you wish
you could see it all?
I Look Better In Black
Is orange the color? I didn't know.
It doesn't fit everyone like you say it does
It doesn't fit much of anyone at all
It doesn't fit me.
You tell me to like it
But it's out of place
There's nothing here for it
But the flip end of the magnet
Pushing it back into my arms.
It doesn't fit everyone like you say it does
It doesn't fit much of anyone at all
It doesn't fit me.
You tell me to like it
But it's out of place
There's nothing here for it
But the flip end of the magnet
Pushing it back into my arms.
Originality
Re-puncturing the public eardrums
synthetic lace ringed with coffee
pretending not to be
in the arrowhead of a baroque modernity.
synthetic lace ringed with coffee
pretending not to be
in the arrowhead of a baroque modernity.
The Art of Misinterpretation
Words in the dryer
warm to the touch
until fingertips
steal
their sincerity.
Powder falls into
my prints, yours
meaning settling
in the creases and folds
differently
every time
until they are as cold
as when
they started
so you put them back in
and hope
the heat holds.
warm to the touch
until fingertips
steal
their sincerity.
Powder falls into
my prints, yours
meaning settling
in the creases and folds
differently
every time
until they are as cold
as when
they started
so you put them back in
and hope
the heat holds.
It's Raining Poems
I've written a lot of them lately.
I haven't written one for a couple weeks, after I wrote four in one night.
I was hesitant to post them, though. That's why they're still sitting on my desk, marked up but not finalized.
It used to seem like poetry wasn't meant to be published; like it was the rawness of thoughts passionately scribbled in the heat of a moment that made it beautiful.
I'm beginning to realize, though, that while the thoughts that make the poem special still come in that moment, the poem itself is the product of lots of careful thinking.
Instead of thinking of my poems as a done deal as soon as I place the last period, I've decided that they will never really be done until I can look at them and say yeah, that's about it. I have nothing more to say about that.
My teacher also suggested that I try grouping some of them. It's not all that uncommon for my poems to revolve around the same basic subject matter as poetry is written according to what occupies your brain, and for me, certain thoughts permeate through so many different aspects of my thinking that no matter what initially inspires a poem, they end up becoming a main part of it.
So, long story short, I'm going to be posting some poetry. But none if it is done. It's all still a work in progress.
Maybe one of these days I'll finish it all.
Until then, enjoy.
I haven't written one for a couple weeks, after I wrote four in one night.
I was hesitant to post them, though. That's why they're still sitting on my desk, marked up but not finalized.
It used to seem like poetry wasn't meant to be published; like it was the rawness of thoughts passionately scribbled in the heat of a moment that made it beautiful.
I'm beginning to realize, though, that while the thoughts that make the poem special still come in that moment, the poem itself is the product of lots of careful thinking.
Instead of thinking of my poems as a done deal as soon as I place the last period, I've decided that they will never really be done until I can look at them and say yeah, that's about it. I have nothing more to say about that.
My teacher also suggested that I try grouping some of them. It's not all that uncommon for my poems to revolve around the same basic subject matter as poetry is written according to what occupies your brain, and for me, certain thoughts permeate through so many different aspects of my thinking that no matter what initially inspires a poem, they end up becoming a main part of it.
So, long story short, I'm going to be posting some poetry. But none if it is done. It's all still a work in progress.
Maybe one of these days I'll finish it all.
Until then, enjoy.
I Would Like to Apologize in Advance
For the amount of posts that will be on today's date. I have lots of different things to talk about.
First of all, I'm thinking about getting rid of the music player on my page.
I mean, come on, it's really just kind of annoying.
Even I mute it as soon as I open the page. And it's my music. I picked it. Yet I hate listening to it.
Maybe it's because I'm unfocused and can't read and listen to any sort of music at the same time.
Anyway, do you guys actually like it there, or do you just immediately mute it too?
First of all, I'm thinking about getting rid of the music player on my page.
I mean, come on, it's really just kind of annoying.
Even I mute it as soon as I open the page. And it's my music. I picked it. Yet I hate listening to it.
Maybe it's because I'm unfocused and can't read and listen to any sort of music at the same time.
Anyway, do you guys actually like it there, or do you just immediately mute it too?
Oh, Hey There
The other day, I was all daaaamn I've done a ton of writing lately.
Which I have.
In my head.
Isn't that great? I compose entire entries, and then they never get an audience. Except the one in my head. And that audience really enjoys what I have to say.
One of them that I never got to share with you was about hedgehogs.
They're cute.
And I want one.
Too bad it would have a crazy person for a mother.
Anyway, that's not even the point of this post. At all. The point is concerts.
Concerts, in case you weren't aware, have rules. Not the kinds of rules that are embossed on a cheap piece of plastic and nailed next to the door, but the unspoken rules that everybody should have the common sense and lack of idiocy to follow.
First rule: Leave your fucking candy at home.
Honestly.
When your crinkly wrapper begins to overshadow the violin solo, we have a problem.
So unless what you are unwrapping is vital to your immediate health, put it away, I'm begging you. Before I get violent.
Second rule: When asked to sing along to a piece, sing the melody like everybody else in the entire auditorium.
Yes, we know there is a harmony to this song. Do you know it? Great. Do you sound good on it? What's that? You don't? Then shut the hell up.
There was this one lady tonight, seated a bit further down the row than my family, who had one of the classic old lady voices. Like the muscles that used to hold her chords in place so she could sing nice, clear pitches have gotten so old and flabby that her vibrato has practically taken on a life of its own. She's singing away, the floor is on the verge of shaking with the reverberations of her vocalizing, and decides that it is absolutely necessary to broadcast her knowledge of obscure harmonies.
Now, I'm not saying harmonizing is a bad thing. But if you learned it back when you still had teeth and haven't sung it since, you probably should not attempt it any more. Because, news flash, it sounds like shit.
Also, she decided that the rest of us silly audience members had clearly never been in a choir before, because instead of singing along with the conductor who was at least 100 feet away and therefore not on the same tempo as the sound that was actually reaching our ears, we were listening instead to the choir, and singing along with them.
Silly us.
So she sang with the conductor. Putting her a fraction of a beat ahead, a couple notes off key, and dangerously far away from any sort of sound that people would ever voluntarily listen to.
Third rule (and, may I say, the most important rule): I. Don't. Want. To. Hear. You. Breathe.
Ever.
EVER.
Like, Christ. If I wanted to hear some sort of confirmation that you were still alive over there, I would just wait until the song was over and see if you clapped. But unless you just finished running a marathon, I don't want to hear your breath ever. Blanket rule.
Especially if you're like the woman to my right who couldn't even breathe in a normal pattern like every other person on the planet.
You know, most of us take an in breath, let it out. An in breath, let it out.
Not that you can hear us.
But no, no no. That was not good enough for this woman.
Instead, she voted to take two quick breaths, one right after another. Hold without noise for about five seconds. Then two more quick breaths. And hold.
All while sounding like an elephant with asthma.
Well, lady, if there was a chance I was going to enjoy this piano solo, you just blew it. Thanks.
I could barely contain my rage.
Other unmentioned rules include: keep your illness at home or at least don't cough like you're a wild animal, note that stage whispering does not actually count as whispering, especially during a quick, sensitive song, and please for the love of god do not clap in the middle of a song. It's not over until the conductor's hands are down or the soloist breaks out of the moment. Everybody knows that. Everybody.
But anyway, on a calmer, less violent note, the concert was fantastic! I now kind of wish that I could play the violin, or that I was a man so that I could sing tenor.
You know, either works.
Which I have.
In my head.
Isn't that great? I compose entire entries, and then they never get an audience. Except the one in my head. And that audience really enjoys what I have to say.
One of them that I never got to share with you was about hedgehogs.
They're cute.
And I want one.
Too bad it would have a crazy person for a mother.
Anyway, that's not even the point of this post. At all. The point is concerts.
Concerts, in case you weren't aware, have rules. Not the kinds of rules that are embossed on a cheap piece of plastic and nailed next to the door, but the unspoken rules that everybody should have the common sense and lack of idiocy to follow.
First rule: Leave your fucking candy at home.
Honestly.
When your crinkly wrapper begins to overshadow the violin solo, we have a problem.
So unless what you are unwrapping is vital to your immediate health, put it away, I'm begging you. Before I get violent.
Second rule: When asked to sing along to a piece, sing the melody like everybody else in the entire auditorium.
Yes, we know there is a harmony to this song. Do you know it? Great. Do you sound good on it? What's that? You don't? Then shut the hell up.
There was this one lady tonight, seated a bit further down the row than my family, who had one of the classic old lady voices. Like the muscles that used to hold her chords in place so she could sing nice, clear pitches have gotten so old and flabby that her vibrato has practically taken on a life of its own. She's singing away, the floor is on the verge of shaking with the reverberations of her vocalizing, and decides that it is absolutely necessary to broadcast her knowledge of obscure harmonies.
Now, I'm not saying harmonizing is a bad thing. But if you learned it back when you still had teeth and haven't sung it since, you probably should not attempt it any more. Because, news flash, it sounds like shit.
Also, she decided that the rest of us silly audience members had clearly never been in a choir before, because instead of singing along with the conductor who was at least 100 feet away and therefore not on the same tempo as the sound that was actually reaching our ears, we were listening instead to the choir, and singing along with them.
Silly us.
So she sang with the conductor. Putting her a fraction of a beat ahead, a couple notes off key, and dangerously far away from any sort of sound that people would ever voluntarily listen to.
Third rule (and, may I say, the most important rule): I. Don't. Want. To. Hear. You. Breathe.
Ever.
EVER.
Like, Christ. If I wanted to hear some sort of confirmation that you were still alive over there, I would just wait until the song was over and see if you clapped. But unless you just finished running a marathon, I don't want to hear your breath ever. Blanket rule.
Especially if you're like the woman to my right who couldn't even breathe in a normal pattern like every other person on the planet.
You know, most of us take an in breath, let it out. An in breath, let it out.
Not that you can hear us.
But no, no no. That was not good enough for this woman.
Instead, she voted to take two quick breaths, one right after another. Hold without noise for about five seconds. Then two more quick breaths. And hold.
All while sounding like an elephant with asthma.
Well, lady, if there was a chance I was going to enjoy this piano solo, you just blew it. Thanks.
I could barely contain my rage.
Other unmentioned rules include: keep your illness at home or at least don't cough like you're a wild animal, note that stage whispering does not actually count as whispering, especially during a quick, sensitive song, and please for the love of god do not clap in the middle of a song. It's not over until the conductor's hands are down or the soloist breaks out of the moment. Everybody knows that. Everybody.
But anyway, on a calmer, less violent note, the concert was fantastic! I now kind of wish that I could play the violin, or that I was a man so that I could sing tenor.
You know, either works.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Ideas Love Nature
People are funny creatures. We continually try and convince ourselves that we are original and unique, and that nobody else is quite like us.
But we've all heard the old motif. "If everybody's special, then nobody is."
I don't really believe either of those. Not everybody is perfectly unique, there aren't near enough traits for every single person to have their own. But at the same time, the human race is far from homogeneous.
Really, it's just this:
Ideas are recycled.
Every great movie, book, person, action, anything has probably been done before in some way, shape or form.
But that doesn't make it any less unique. It just means that it's not entirely original.
People tend to get so hung up on convincing themselves that what they are doing comes from their own mind, not from an outside influence. I know that I do. But the truth is that everything has a motivation, and motivations are all recycled.
There is a fine line between motivation and pure duplication, however. If something is done merely because somebody else did it, there's nothing slightly original about it. If it's done in your own way but the action was inspired by somebody else's, that's simple motivation, and has been altered enough to become unique in its own right.
We heard from a guest speaker in my lit class the other day. He worked with famous poets, and is a poet himself. And when he first introduced himself to us, he started with an idea that I found very interesting.
He told us that people were all connected through lineage. If a person shares the same passions as you do, they are from your lineage. Not all people from the same lineage are really that similar though, as you well may know.
I have often met people through similar interests, thinking that because of our share passion we will immediately get along.
Most of those people end up being douches.
Which brings me to the second point that Randy made.
Of the people who share your lineage, there are only some who are also in your tribe.
That tribe extends all the way around the world.
So when you find somebody that seems so similar to you it's as if the gods just made a carbon copy, it may be tempting to think of your ideas as no longer original.
Because they're not.
They're recycled from the same sources that are drawn upon by all of the rest of the people who share your lineage, and utilized by the people in your tribe.
The ideas are still your own.
They may be recycled, or motivated by a common influence, but no matter how many people you may find from your same tribe, ideas are personal, and their similarities should be reveled in, never run from.
And although this reasoning may have been entirely circular and in the end make sense to nobody but myself, I think that it's fairly sound advice.
Love your ideas.
They have also stemmed from other brains. They are motivated by the world around you, no matter how hard you try to convince yourself that they came from your soul and not the people you associate yourself with.
But they are yours, and should be utilized as such.
But we've all heard the old motif. "If everybody's special, then nobody is."
I don't really believe either of those. Not everybody is perfectly unique, there aren't near enough traits for every single person to have their own. But at the same time, the human race is far from homogeneous.
Really, it's just this:
Ideas are recycled.
Every great movie, book, person, action, anything has probably been done before in some way, shape or form.
But that doesn't make it any less unique. It just means that it's not entirely original.
People tend to get so hung up on convincing themselves that what they are doing comes from their own mind, not from an outside influence. I know that I do. But the truth is that everything has a motivation, and motivations are all recycled.
There is a fine line between motivation and pure duplication, however. If something is done merely because somebody else did it, there's nothing slightly original about it. If it's done in your own way but the action was inspired by somebody else's, that's simple motivation, and has been altered enough to become unique in its own right.
We heard from a guest speaker in my lit class the other day. He worked with famous poets, and is a poet himself. And when he first introduced himself to us, he started with an idea that I found very interesting.
He told us that people were all connected through lineage. If a person shares the same passions as you do, they are from your lineage. Not all people from the same lineage are really that similar though, as you well may know.
I have often met people through similar interests, thinking that because of our share passion we will immediately get along.
Most of those people end up being douches.
Which brings me to the second point that Randy made.
Of the people who share your lineage, there are only some who are also in your tribe.
That tribe extends all the way around the world.
So when you find somebody that seems so similar to you it's as if the gods just made a carbon copy, it may be tempting to think of your ideas as no longer original.
Because they're not.
They're recycled from the same sources that are drawn upon by all of the rest of the people who share your lineage, and utilized by the people in your tribe.
The ideas are still your own.
They may be recycled, or motivated by a common influence, but no matter how many people you may find from your same tribe, ideas are personal, and their similarities should be reveled in, never run from.
And although this reasoning may have been entirely circular and in the end make sense to nobody but myself, I think that it's fairly sound advice.
Love your ideas.
They have also stemmed from other brains. They are motivated by the world around you, no matter how hard you try to convince yourself that they came from your soul and not the people you associate yourself with.
But they are yours, and should be utilized as such.
Pointless Party Games
We crush the pebbles under sandaled feet
The dirt becomes a whisper in the past
to dwindle to the heart's unending beat
and leave predictions wondering, aghast.
The stars sit in their seat above our heads
with lives as tokens, tossing wooden dice
Philosophizing, lying in our beds
pretending there is room in paradise
directions circling endlessly like wind
but never blowing where the meter aims
No bets are placed on those who haven't sinned
And glory's patrons, only those with claim
There are no gods observing from their clouds
Dead six feet down, not looking to be proud.
The dirt becomes a whisper in the past
to dwindle to the heart's unending beat
and leave predictions wondering, aghast.
The stars sit in their seat above our heads
with lives as tokens, tossing wooden dice
Philosophizing, lying in our beds
pretending there is room in paradise
directions circling endlessly like wind
but never blowing where the meter aims
No bets are placed on those who haven't sinned
And glory's patrons, only those with claim
There are no gods observing from their clouds
Dead six feet down, not looking to be proud.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
I'm Actually Laughing With You This Time, Not At You
I had a revelation tonight. You know, one of those deep, philosophical ones? Yeah, of course you do.
Anyway, I was all, hey, I should blog about that.
I was gonna make it be a post like "guess what I just realized about human nature as a whole."
But then I realized, it's probably just me.
Because most people aren't like me.
In fact, I would say nobody's quite like me, except the special few.
I actually had somebody tell me at rehearsal the other day that I was the most frank person that they had ever met.
They asked me if I had a boyfriend.
I said no.
They laughed.
I told them that I hated them.
It really helped counter their point.
Anyway, I really did have a revelation. And it's that I, if not other people who may or may not be nicer than me, tend to take people who make me feel good for granted.
I generally just assume that unless people are assholes, I will get along with them well enough to have a good time.
But that's really not the case. People don't have to simply not suck, they actually have to be cool too.
There are plenty of people who I don't hate. In fact, I really don't hate anyone.
And there are most definitely some people I would really rather not spend any time with, ever.
So when I have a long shift at work that actually doesn't feel that long and I get home in a good mood, it makes me reflect.
Plenty of people are on what you could call my "good side." I don't love them, but I like them enough that if I am forced to spend time with them, I can at least leave in a neutral state of mind.
Some people are on my good side only because they're stupid, and their idiocy entertains me.
I like those people.
But the people who make me laugh not because they're stupid, but just because they're fun, deserve more mental appreciation from me than they're currently getting.
Just mental, though.
Wouldn't want to get crazy.
I've never thought that I was that tough of a person to get along with.
But I realize that I'm intimidating, and as my choir teacher has told me, I am a "dragon lady in training."
I'm proud of that.
People just really don't get appreciated for the way that they act, and I think it's because everybody values different personality traits in the people that they choose as their friends.
I, for one, like it when people have a good sense of humor, but they're not so uptight that they can laugh a little about stuff that may not cause the moral compass to point due north.
I also like it when they're not stupid. But hey, that's just an added bonus. Some of my best friends earned their position because of their lack of i.q. points. Haha, not really, I'm just kidding...
You know who you are.
But when people that I have not actually taken the time to pick as my friends still fit into the category, damn ees niiiice.
So gee, people, thank you.
Really.
I mean it.
Merci.
Anyway, I was all, hey, I should blog about that.
I was gonna make it be a post like "guess what I just realized about human nature as a whole."
But then I realized, it's probably just me.
Because most people aren't like me.
In fact, I would say nobody's quite like me, except the special few.
I actually had somebody tell me at rehearsal the other day that I was the most frank person that they had ever met.
They asked me if I had a boyfriend.
I said no.
They laughed.
I told them that I hated them.
It really helped counter their point.
Anyway, I really did have a revelation. And it's that I, if not other people who may or may not be nicer than me, tend to take people who make me feel good for granted.
I generally just assume that unless people are assholes, I will get along with them well enough to have a good time.
But that's really not the case. People don't have to simply not suck, they actually have to be cool too.
There are plenty of people who I don't hate. In fact, I really don't hate anyone.
And there are most definitely some people I would really rather not spend any time with, ever.
So when I have a long shift at work that actually doesn't feel that long and I get home in a good mood, it makes me reflect.
Plenty of people are on what you could call my "good side." I don't love them, but I like them enough that if I am forced to spend time with them, I can at least leave in a neutral state of mind.
Some people are on my good side only because they're stupid, and their idiocy entertains me.
I like those people.
But the people who make me laugh not because they're stupid, but just because they're fun, deserve more mental appreciation from me than they're currently getting.
Just mental, though.
Wouldn't want to get crazy.
I've never thought that I was that tough of a person to get along with.
But I realize that I'm intimidating, and as my choir teacher has told me, I am a "dragon lady in training."
I'm proud of that.
People just really don't get appreciated for the way that they act, and I think it's because everybody values different personality traits in the people that they choose as their friends.
I, for one, like it when people have a good sense of humor, but they're not so uptight that they can laugh a little about stuff that may not cause the moral compass to point due north.
I also like it when they're not stupid. But hey, that's just an added bonus. Some of my best friends earned their position because of their lack of i.q. points. Haha, not really, I'm just kidding...
You know who you are.
But when people that I have not actually taken the time to pick as my friends still fit into the category, damn ees niiiice.
So gee, people, thank you.
Really.
I mean it.
Merci.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Old Souls
In the time of the classics
their thoughts coursed
multiplied
fed on themselves
and intertwined
under the stars
they mingled
realizing the reflection
in the face
of the other
in the time of the classics
together they talked of gods
worlds
stars
met by their eyes
in the blackness
their eyes
in the time of the classics
boundaries
like running watercolors
never bleeding
but becoming art
reflected
by the stars
stars
that absorbed them
their essence
their eyes
absorbed by the stars
in the time of the classics.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Seriously. Slackin.
I cannot believe that I haven't posted about Les Mis yet.
Can. Not. Believe.
I just don't feel like I've had the proper amount of time to write about it yet. If I rush myself, I won't do the show any justice.
Maybe tomorrow.
In the meantime, did you know that tuna and refried beans make a terrible snack?
And that if you play a witch, no little children want to say hi to you after the show?
Well now you know.
Can. Not. Believe.
I just don't feel like I've had the proper amount of time to write about it yet. If I rush myself, I won't do the show any justice.
Maybe tomorrow.
In the meantime, did you know that tuna and refried beans make a terrible snack?
And that if you play a witch, no little children want to say hi to you after the show?
Well now you know.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
A Week Later
And I still have not given you all an extensive review of Les Mis.
I'm a little disappointed in myself.
I'll try and get that up tomorrow. Save myself from my shame.
By the way... it was awesome.
I'm a little disappointed in myself.
I'll try and get that up tomorrow. Save myself from my shame.
By the way... it was awesome.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Today, I Had Scheduling Problems
Just like yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that...
I also learned something new about my mom:
Don't mess with her kid's schedule. She will eat you for breakfast.
These problems were really for no good reason. It wasn't an issue of "this won't work," "we don't have a class for you," "the teacher doesn't want you to do this," none of that nonsense.
The reasoning for this one?
"...Cuz."
Like, seriously. I don't think those jackasses have a single reason for turning down my application for an independent study. It was totally worked out, and they didn't have to do anything but sit on their butts and sign a piece of paper. That simple.
Maybe it's because they don't do anything, and secretly they feel a little useless (which they very well should, because, well, they are.) So instead of employing themselves in useful fields, they take things that would be just fine and fuck with 'em.
I was completely prepared to do this independent study. My teacher was totally okay with it. My counselor said it would work.
So why exactly do they come back with a response of "sorry, that won't work. It fits in your schedule, you just need to drop Chambers. That's your only option."
I'm sorry, what?
I think something is being missed here.
Chambers is my schedule.
It's a class. You think it's just choir? Yeah, tell that to my choir teacher. Go tell her that you think it's only practical for me to drop her class, because let's face it, it's "just choir."
Hell, if we're looking at it that way, it's calculus that doesn't fit into my schedule. Because Chambers outweighs math a thousand to one. And if you think that I'm going to be willing to give on something like that because you think that it's a lesser class, then you have another thing coming.
These classes are equal. Choir is equal to English is equal to math is equal to history. They are all the same to me. If I had my English class in the block that I needed to take math, or my French class, or my history class, they would let me independent study. They would have to. Because it wouldn't fit in my schedule.
But somehow, to the administration, the fact that my class is different makes it so that they don't really care about how much I want to take it, the fact of the matter is that it is in the way of something that's "more important."
Well, I have news for you. I have been screwed over on my French class and inconvenienced on my math class, but there is not one single way that I am giving up this class. Choir is my world.
Just see if you can make me change.
I also learned something new about my mom:
Don't mess with her kid's schedule. She will eat you for breakfast.
These problems were really for no good reason. It wasn't an issue of "this won't work," "we don't have a class for you," "the teacher doesn't want you to do this," none of that nonsense.
The reasoning for this one?
"...Cuz."
Like, seriously. I don't think those jackasses have a single reason for turning down my application for an independent study. It was totally worked out, and they didn't have to do anything but sit on their butts and sign a piece of paper. That simple.
Maybe it's because they don't do anything, and secretly they feel a little useless (which they very well should, because, well, they are.) So instead of employing themselves in useful fields, they take things that would be just fine and fuck with 'em.
I was completely prepared to do this independent study. My teacher was totally okay with it. My counselor said it would work.
So why exactly do they come back with a response of "sorry, that won't work. It fits in your schedule, you just need to drop Chambers. That's your only option."
I'm sorry, what?
I think something is being missed here.
Chambers is my schedule.
It's a class. You think it's just choir? Yeah, tell that to my choir teacher. Go tell her that you think it's only practical for me to drop her class, because let's face it, it's "just choir."
Hell, if we're looking at it that way, it's calculus that doesn't fit into my schedule. Because Chambers outweighs math a thousand to one. And if you think that I'm going to be willing to give on something like that because you think that it's a lesser class, then you have another thing coming.
These classes are equal. Choir is equal to English is equal to math is equal to history. They are all the same to me. If I had my English class in the block that I needed to take math, or my French class, or my history class, they would let me independent study. They would have to. Because it wouldn't fit in my schedule.
But somehow, to the administration, the fact that my class is different makes it so that they don't really care about how much I want to take it, the fact of the matter is that it is in the way of something that's "more important."
Well, I have news for you. I have been screwed over on my French class and inconvenienced on my math class, but there is not one single way that I am giving up this class. Choir is my world.
Just see if you can make me change.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
I Can Do This
It has officially been a week since school started.
It feels like a month.
Or a year.
Yet, somehow I feel like this year will actually go faster.
It hasn't really been a slow start. My mind just feels like it never ended. Like this is merely a continuation of last year, with no break in the middle to separate junior from senior.
My classes are fun. My schedule is chill. Some people stress out about only taking hard classes, because unweighted or easy ones will ruin their gpa.
I don't care.
Really, what is a 4.3 going to get you that a 4.2 could not?
I'm not going all Ivy League crazy. And I'm certainly not pushing myself to the max my senior year just for the possibility of an honorable mention at the graduation ceremony.
This year is my year. I've been waiting for the past three to finally be able to say "whatever, I'm a senior, it doesn't matter." I can do what I want, when I want, and if I want to have two time releases and an easy aiding block, I damn well will.
Because I'm a senior.
And it doesn't matter.
It feels like a month.
Or a year.
Yet, somehow I feel like this year will actually go faster.
It hasn't really been a slow start. My mind just feels like it never ended. Like this is merely a continuation of last year, with no break in the middle to separate junior from senior.
My classes are fun. My schedule is chill. Some people stress out about only taking hard classes, because unweighted or easy ones will ruin their gpa.
I don't care.
Really, what is a 4.3 going to get you that a 4.2 could not?
I'm not going all Ivy League crazy. And I'm certainly not pushing myself to the max my senior year just for the possibility of an honorable mention at the graduation ceremony.
This year is my year. I've been waiting for the past three to finally be able to say "whatever, I'm a senior, it doesn't matter." I can do what I want, when I want, and if I want to have two time releases and an easy aiding block, I damn well will.
Because I'm a senior.
And it doesn't matter.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Francais
Le langue de francais est tres magnifique, mais je ne sais pas si quelqu'un qui parle francais tous les jours pouvait me comprendre si je dirai quelque chose, ou si on pensait que je suis bete.
C'est un problem.
C'est un problem.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Internet, You're Letting Me Down
You know, for all of the hundreds of thousands of useless posts about topics that have about as much credibility as a four year old's opinion on the trends in the stock market, one would think that it would be easier to find at least one page that contains the information that you want.
Unfortunately, that doesn't seem to be the case. It appears that the idiots and miscreants who enjoy spamming the internet with their useless brainwaves don't actually care to take the time to think up a decent page.
I mean, sure, if you're doing research or something scholarly and resourceful, it's plenty easy to find the information that you want. As it's said, the internet is a vast pool of knowledge that you need only to tap into with your fingertips to find anything that you could ever need to know.
But try to find movie quotes, and that's it, game over for you.
All I wanted was to find one good page of all of the funny things that John Krazinski's character says in Something Borrowed, but the only quotes I found were obviously from people whose sense of humor only extends as far as their funny bone, but their capacity for cheesy romanticism is endless.
"Let's get another drink."
"You don't want to."
"I want to."
That qualified for every single page I looked at? That's not even a quote! That's a typical conversation! That's the kind of thing that you say when trying to convince somebody of something, anything, true or not. That, my friends, is lame.
All I'm saying is, Ethan got the shaft on all of these quote pages, as his character is obviously more quotable than Dex, seeing as how Dex is only there for his criminally good looks.
Screw movies reviews. Next time, I'm making my own page of quotes.
That way I don't have to rely on pages that relay quotes like this one:
"Why didn't you tell me how you felt?"
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Friday, August 19, 2011
The First of the Last
Of high school. Of reading syllabuses. Of wondering.
It's the first day of the last year of the most awkward four year period of my life.
It's the first day of the last chance that I have to choose where I want to go from here.
It's the first time that for the last time I've stopped caring about whether my friends are in my classes, or what they will be like, or if we will hang out.
It's the beginning of a new year.
And now that I've got the sentimental bit out of the way, may I just say...
High school sucks.
Get me out of it.
Now.
I want to go to college.
NOW.
Oh, and...
Why do I have to wake up so god damned early?
It's the first day of the last year of the most awkward four year period of my life.
It's the first day of the last chance that I have to choose where I want to go from here.
It's the first time that for the last time I've stopped caring about whether my friends are in my classes, or what they will be like, or if we will hang out.
It's the beginning of a new year.
And now that I've got the sentimental bit out of the way, may I just say...
High school sucks.
Get me out of it.
Now.
I want to go to college.
NOW.
Oh, and...
Why do I have to wake up so god damned early?
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
There Are No Words To Describe This Emotion
May I start this off with a word or warning to all you would-be warriors who may or may not have been planning on actually reading this whole post, it is going to be very angry. Please cover the ears of small children and brace yourselves.
So. School's starting on Friday. I'll be a senior. That's cool.
Seniors are supposed to have the easy schedules, yeah?
Yeah...
Didn't work out quite that way for me.
Now, there is a possibility that it may have if my counselor wasn't an idiot, or our administration didn't suck, or the I.B. coordinator wasn't a stuffed shirt.
To ease that blow a little bit, I will say this. I'm sure they're all perfectly nice, friendly people with lots of friends because they're friendly and people like being their friends.
They just suck at their jobs.
Every single year before this one, seniors get their schedules first. Not just a few days anybody else, but weeks. Every year except this one, the only people to get their schedules before summer break are seniors. And every year, the counselors are there and willing to talk with seniors, so they get all of their scheduling issues resolved before summer starts.
Well, fuck that. That sounds like a terrible plan, right?
No. It sounds like a fucking awesome plan! Too bad you didn't do it at all. AHHHHHH.
So I started my summer break with a schedule somewhat like this:
1st block - AP Euro (chosen over AP Psych, which were assigned to the same block by the genius behind the master schedule, so we all had to pick either one or the other. Awesome.)
2nd block - Food science (so I can actually fulfill the practical arts credit that I need to graduate. Congratulations, you guys did something right for a change!)
3rd block - Choir (after much stubborn unwillingness to change, may I add.)
4th block - Empty. (Not a time release, not an aiding block, just empty. Possibility of taking French 4 at Silver Creek, because they will not allow me into the only French 4 class at Niwot, because it's "just for the I.B. kids", and "if I let you in, then it's not fair to the I.B. kids because a student is allowed in one of their classes who doesn't have to follow the same curriculum as the rest of them." Yeah, what the fuck ever. Shut up. You're stupid.)
5th block- Time release. I'm okay with that.
6th block - AP Lit (hey, something else you guys did right! Give yourselves a huge pat on the back. You earned it.)
7th block - Musical theatre (keep in mind that this class is necessary for at least the first two and half months of school in order for me to keep my lead in the show. Remember that. It's important.)
8th block - Another time release. Cool.
Doesn't look too terrible, right? Other than that one small problem of an empty block, I have all of my classes. Except for math. And a real, legitimate French class... Meh.
These seem to be problems that are impossible to solve.
Don't try and tell me that I haven't tried. That I haven't put forth a good effort. That I haven't followed up enough or talked to the right people.
Because I have.
I have emailed my counselor more times than I would like to count about fixing these problems, and every time he manages to take at least three days to respond, and then manage to not answer a single one of my questions.
So, French. At another school. So far, none of the people I've thought were taking it are actually taking it.
They still don't know what block it is.
Meanwhile, I keep hearing of more people being allowed into I.B. French.
So why wasn't I?
I speak more French than a majority of people in the classes at Niwot, of that I can guarantee you. I love the language. I speak it whenever I can, to whoever will listen. I would put myself into that class 110%. So why am I not allowed into it?
Oh, yeah, because if I was allowed in, other people would feel left out.
Wait a second, though. The people who might feel left out? You already let them in the class, apparently. So now who's the one feeling left out?
Me. That's fucking who.
And, I don't have a math class in my schedule.
I'm planning on independent studying calculus. I'm prepared to independent study it. I'm ready to.
Now I just have to wait on them. Are they going to finally decide to meet with me a day before school starts and tell me to find another option because they don't think it's going to work for them? Are they going to expect me to figure something out, or blame me for the problem being worked on so close to the beginning of the year when it's their fault in the first place that it has been put off for this long?
I'm so mad right now, I can barely even start to convey to you the depth of my emotions.
This is just a very on-the-surface briefing of the cataclysm of rage and angry words swirling around in my head right now.
I can't even handle it.
So. School's starting on Friday. I'll be a senior. That's cool.
Seniors are supposed to have the easy schedules, yeah?
Yeah...
Didn't work out quite that way for me.
Now, there is a possibility that it may have if my counselor wasn't an idiot, or our administration didn't suck, or the I.B. coordinator wasn't a stuffed shirt.
To ease that blow a little bit, I will say this. I'm sure they're all perfectly nice, friendly people with lots of friends because they're friendly and people like being their friends.
They just suck at their jobs.
Every single year before this one, seniors get their schedules first. Not just a few days anybody else, but weeks. Every year except this one, the only people to get their schedules before summer break are seniors. And every year, the counselors are there and willing to talk with seniors, so they get all of their scheduling issues resolved before summer starts.
Well, fuck that. That sounds like a terrible plan, right?
No. It sounds like a fucking awesome plan! Too bad you didn't do it at all. AHHHHHH.
So I started my summer break with a schedule somewhat like this:
1st block - AP Euro (chosen over AP Psych, which were assigned to the same block by the genius behind the master schedule, so we all had to pick either one or the other. Awesome.)
2nd block - Food science (so I can actually fulfill the practical arts credit that I need to graduate. Congratulations, you guys did something right for a change!)
3rd block - Choir (after much stubborn unwillingness to change, may I add.)
4th block - Empty. (Not a time release, not an aiding block, just empty. Possibility of taking French 4 at Silver Creek, because they will not allow me into the only French 4 class at Niwot, because it's "just for the I.B. kids", and "if I let you in, then it's not fair to the I.B. kids because a student is allowed in one of their classes who doesn't have to follow the same curriculum as the rest of them." Yeah, what the fuck ever. Shut up. You're stupid.)
5th block- Time release. I'm okay with that.
6th block - AP Lit (hey, something else you guys did right! Give yourselves a huge pat on the back. You earned it.)
7th block - Musical theatre (keep in mind that this class is necessary for at least the first two and half months of school in order for me to keep my lead in the show. Remember that. It's important.)
8th block - Another time release. Cool.
Doesn't look too terrible, right? Other than that one small problem of an empty block, I have all of my classes. Except for math. And a real, legitimate French class... Meh.
These seem to be problems that are impossible to solve.
Don't try and tell me that I haven't tried. That I haven't put forth a good effort. That I haven't followed up enough or talked to the right people.
Because I have.
I have emailed my counselor more times than I would like to count about fixing these problems, and every time he manages to take at least three days to respond, and then manage to not answer a single one of my questions.
So, French. At another school. So far, none of the people I've thought were taking it are actually taking it.
They still don't know what block it is.
Meanwhile, I keep hearing of more people being allowed into I.B. French.
So why wasn't I?
I speak more French than a majority of people in the classes at Niwot, of that I can guarantee you. I love the language. I speak it whenever I can, to whoever will listen. I would put myself into that class 110%. So why am I not allowed into it?
Oh, yeah, because if I was allowed in, other people would feel left out.
Wait a second, though. The people who might feel left out? You already let them in the class, apparently. So now who's the one feeling left out?
Me. That's fucking who.
And, I don't have a math class in my schedule.
I'm planning on independent studying calculus. I'm prepared to independent study it. I'm ready to.
Now I just have to wait on them. Are they going to finally decide to meet with me a day before school starts and tell me to find another option because they don't think it's going to work for them? Are they going to expect me to figure something out, or blame me for the problem being worked on so close to the beginning of the year when it's their fault in the first place that it has been put off for this long?
I'm so mad right now, I can barely even start to convey to you the depth of my emotions.
This is just a very on-the-surface briefing of the cataclysm of rage and angry words swirling around in my head right now.
I can't even handle it.
Monday, August 15, 2011
Ahh, Memories
There are some times, some places, some situations that stick with us forever. Whether we realize it or not, some part of our subconscience is always aware of that memory, it just needs a certain trigger to pull it out from the archives in the recesses of our brain and flood our waking thoughts with flashbacks to a different time.
There are certain smells for me that will transport me back to an earlier time. Certain feelings. Certain songs.
Whenever the roof of my mouth feels funny, I think of velvet. It's not really a sensation that could ever logically be described with that word, but one day when I was little, staying at home sick, and sitting on my mom and dad's bed watching Sesame Street on their little television, the roof of my mouth felt funny like that. And if I held really still, it wouldn't go away. And to my child's mind, it would feel like velvet.
Maroon 5 always makes me think of 5th grade.
Water balloons always make me think of third grade, at a certain friend's house who I have never been at since.
Corsets make me think of wolf costumes and hives. Green iPods are walking to elementary school during alternate transportation week when they handed out stickers to people actively trekking along. Sensitive skin is a warm bath when I have a fever.
Then there are the places. Some places that are associated with a particular but imperfect event, where you always think of one specific thing, but not a specific night or specific occurrence.
Some places should be like that, but they aren't.
Tonight, we went to Old Chicago after rehearsal. The only time I ever go there is after theatre. So, natural that I should relate it to theatre.
But out of the several times that I've been there, my mind thought of one night.
Driving home, I expected it to be snowing, and for somebody to be waiting to Skype with me when I got home.
Needless to say, there was no snow, and everybody was asleep.
You crafty memories.
There are certain smells for me that will transport me back to an earlier time. Certain feelings. Certain songs.
Whenever the roof of my mouth feels funny, I think of velvet. It's not really a sensation that could ever logically be described with that word, but one day when I was little, staying at home sick, and sitting on my mom and dad's bed watching Sesame Street on their little television, the roof of my mouth felt funny like that. And if I held really still, it wouldn't go away. And to my child's mind, it would feel like velvet.
Maroon 5 always makes me think of 5th grade.
Water balloons always make me think of third grade, at a certain friend's house who I have never been at since.
Corsets make me think of wolf costumes and hives. Green iPods are walking to elementary school during alternate transportation week when they handed out stickers to people actively trekking along. Sensitive skin is a warm bath when I have a fever.
Then there are the places. Some places that are associated with a particular but imperfect event, where you always think of one specific thing, but not a specific night or specific occurrence.
Some places should be like that, but they aren't.
Tonight, we went to Old Chicago after rehearsal. The only time I ever go there is after theatre. So, natural that I should relate it to theatre.
But out of the several times that I've been there, my mind thought of one night.
Driving home, I expected it to be snowing, and for somebody to be waiting to Skype with me when I got home.
Needless to say, there was no snow, and everybody was asleep.
You crafty memories.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
I've Transcended
I got a tumblr.
I just didn't feel right putting these little short posts on a blog. Legitimate posts are for a blog, little ones are for a tumblr.
And now I have one.
Transcendence.
So if you like the little posts, there will be more! Pictures, thoughts, insults, you name it, I'll have it.
If you like the real stuff, stay here.
But hey, you might as well check it out. What do you have to lose? Other than twenty minutes of your life that you will never get back.
But who needs that anyway.
I just didn't feel right putting these little short posts on a blog. Legitimate posts are for a blog, little ones are for a tumblr.
And now I have one.
Transcendence.
So if you like the little posts, there will be more! Pictures, thoughts, insults, you name it, I'll have it.
If you like the real stuff, stay here.
But hey, you might as well check it out. What do you have to lose? Other than twenty minutes of your life that you will never get back.
But who needs that anyway.
Friday, August 12, 2011
We Are No Longer Knights
And we no longer live in the days of old, where all virtues were measured by deeds and all reputations carved with a sword.
So how do we measure our virtues?
Generosity, loyalty, faith. Those are the easy ones.
How about courage?
What exactly is being courageous?
Courage is like loneliness. It has so many faces and wears so many different masks, it makes itself almost impossible to label.
Are people courageous because they bravely face anything and everything, constantly putting themselves out there as often as they can in as many ways as possible?
Could be. But that could also be fueled by insecurities, and those don't seem to quite fit the bill for bravery. Sure, being daring and adventurous is proving to the world that you're not afraid of anything, but does that make you courageous? Or does it just make you bold?
Is a person courageous because they deal with everything internally, going through personal struggles and strains of the emotions without showing a single sign of anything in their life being out of place? Are they courageous because they are brave enough to make their issues known without letting them impede on their habitual nature?
Courage is rhetorical. It's not meant to be defined or outlined. It's not even really meant to be perceived by anybody but yourself.
Do I feel courageous? Not really. Does it mean that I'm not? Who knows.
I've been told before that I'm tough. I've been told that I'm stand-offish. I've been told that I'm emotionally strong.
But none of that matters. Because courage isn't defined by the people around you, with their own treasured ideals and their own perceptions of your personal situation.
Courage is defined by you, and only you.
So here's my question for you:
Do you feel courageous?
So how do we measure our virtues?
Generosity, loyalty, faith. Those are the easy ones.
How about courage?
What exactly is being courageous?
Courage is like loneliness. It has so many faces and wears so many different masks, it makes itself almost impossible to label.
Are people courageous because they bravely face anything and everything, constantly putting themselves out there as often as they can in as many ways as possible?
Could be. But that could also be fueled by insecurities, and those don't seem to quite fit the bill for bravery. Sure, being daring and adventurous is proving to the world that you're not afraid of anything, but does that make you courageous? Or does it just make you bold?
Is a person courageous because they deal with everything internally, going through personal struggles and strains of the emotions without showing a single sign of anything in their life being out of place? Are they courageous because they are brave enough to make their issues known without letting them impede on their habitual nature?
Courage is rhetorical. It's not meant to be defined or outlined. It's not even really meant to be perceived by anybody but yourself.
Do I feel courageous? Not really. Does it mean that I'm not? Who knows.
I've been told before that I'm tough. I've been told that I'm stand-offish. I've been told that I'm emotionally strong.
But none of that matters. Because courage isn't defined by the people around you, with their own treasured ideals and their own perceptions of your personal situation.
Courage is defined by you, and only you.
So here's my question for you:
Do you feel courageous?
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
This College Hoppin' Thing is Hard
I am pooped.
My dad and I decided to go on a nice leisurely walk to see the gorge(ous) sights in Ithaca.
It was not leisurely.
It was a full blown hike.
Uphill.
In mud.
While wearing flip-flops.
It was probably one of the least enjoyable things we could have chosen to do with our evening.
I am not planning on moving from my bed until about 8:30 tomorrow morning. Cheers.
On the flip side, well... I guess it's not really the flip side. Regardless. I am going to talk about colleges now.
Five points for awesome transitions.
I am actually very surprised at how unimpressed I am with the schools I have visited thus far.
Not to say that they're bad schools or that they don't have an abundance of fantastic opportunities and programs, but I suppose I just expected to fall in love with these places the way I fell in love with DU.
I saw that school not really planning on leaving with a desire to go there, and ended up really liking it. The campus was beautiful, lots of potential for exercise, nice dorms, delicious cafeteria, bomb study abroad program, five year Master's programs for practically all majors, etc, etc.
Pretty much, I fell in love with the first school I saw, and nothing else has been able to compare.
Granted, I have only visited two of our scheduled four. So there is still potential for chance.
I do know one thing: I definitely won't be moving to Ithaca next summer.
I'll keep y'all posted on the next couple of days.
Don't fall out of your chairs in excitement and anticipation.
No, I'm totally kidding. Do. I'll be flattered.
My dad and I decided to go on a nice leisurely walk to see the gorge(ous) sights in Ithaca.
It was not leisurely.
It was a full blown hike.
Uphill.
In mud.
While wearing flip-flops.
It was probably one of the least enjoyable things we could have chosen to do with our evening.
I am not planning on moving from my bed until about 8:30 tomorrow morning. Cheers.
On the flip side, well... I guess it's not really the flip side. Regardless. I am going to talk about colleges now.
Five points for awesome transitions.
I am actually very surprised at how unimpressed I am with the schools I have visited thus far.
Not to say that they're bad schools or that they don't have an abundance of fantastic opportunities and programs, but I suppose I just expected to fall in love with these places the way I fell in love with DU.
I saw that school not really planning on leaving with a desire to go there, and ended up really liking it. The campus was beautiful, lots of potential for exercise, nice dorms, delicious cafeteria, bomb study abroad program, five year Master's programs for practically all majors, etc, etc.
Pretty much, I fell in love with the first school I saw, and nothing else has been able to compare.
Granted, I have only visited two of our scheduled four. So there is still potential for chance.
I do know one thing: I definitely won't be moving to Ithaca next summer.
I'll keep y'all posted on the next couple of days.
Don't fall out of your chairs in excitement and anticipation.
No, I'm totally kidding. Do. I'll be flattered.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Do I Really Need All This?
Every time I pack for somewhere, I'm astonished at how much shit I pack.
Really? A five day trip, and I fill a backpack to bursting? Really?
It's great that I'm avoiding checking my luggage, but I have a feeling that my shoulders are now going to pay for it.
Hey, I could just consider it conditioning for school. Ugh... school... shudder.
I have so many little tiny bottles and travel sizes of things that I can fill a whole storage size ziploc with only the liquids.
I have another little bag for the non-liquids.
And another little bag for my makeup.
Three pairs of shoes. Seven shirts.
Why do I need all of this shit?
Apparently, because I'm a girl. And it's necessary.
Really? A five day trip, and I fill a backpack to bursting? Really?
It's great that I'm avoiding checking my luggage, but I have a feeling that my shoulders are now going to pay for it.
Hey, I could just consider it conditioning for school. Ugh... school... shudder.
I have so many little tiny bottles and travel sizes of things that I can fill a whole storage size ziploc with only the liquids.
I have another little bag for the non-liquids.
And another little bag for my makeup.
Three pairs of shoes. Seven shirts.
Why do I need all of this shit?
Apparently, because I'm a girl. And it's necessary.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
French or English, Yo
I think blogger must have decided that I speak Spanish.
The last six blogs it has showed me have all been in Spanish.
The most recent one was about fashion, all in Spanish, with all Asian models.
Hmm...
The last six blogs it has showed me have all been in Spanish.
The most recent one was about fashion, all in Spanish, with all Asian models.
Hmm...
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Night Drives
The cool air
sits still
leaving only a gentle breeze
to cool the pores
of the people
still stuck in the day
not yet transitioned
still becoming accustomed
to the stillness
whose racing minds
are still slowing
morphing to the tranquility
of the air
the rushing colors
becoming one
a cool blanket
to calm the world
drawing all attentions
to one single
glitter
that draws away the stress
of the hectic
as long as it can
be seen
and felt
through open windows.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
I'll Admit
It did get better.
Not exponentially, but better.
I think the reason I hated the beginning so much was because they were taking a show that is funny by nature and catering solely to the humor, completely disregarding the intuitive delivery of the lines to substitute in something funnier. Most of the time, though, it wasn't as much funny as it was just plain ridiculous.
Being a more serious theatrical fanatic, I appreciate it more when an actor is able to take a script and deliver it in such a way that they're aren't bursting out of character in their attempt to entice laughter out of their audience, but instead can be completely serious and still make people laugh.
Which is why when all nine parts of the opening (or however many there are, dear lord) were all overacted in the extreme, it took vast amounts of self control just to keep myself from pushing the power button.
But it got better. By the second act, when Bernadette Peters was no longer an ugly witch but instead could rock her crazy 90's poof, she obviously thought that her hair was comedy enough and so returned to saying her lines like a normal person, as did everybody else.
Her flying around in her cape for the entirety of Last Midnight though?
Kinda ruined it.
Not exponentially, but better.
I think the reason I hated the beginning so much was because they were taking a show that is funny by nature and catering solely to the humor, completely disregarding the intuitive delivery of the lines to substitute in something funnier. Most of the time, though, it wasn't as much funny as it was just plain ridiculous.
Being a more serious theatrical fanatic, I appreciate it more when an actor is able to take a script and deliver it in such a way that they're aren't bursting out of character in their attempt to entice laughter out of their audience, but instead can be completely serious and still make people laugh.
Which is why when all nine parts of the opening (or however many there are, dear lord) were all overacted in the extreme, it took vast amounts of self control just to keep myself from pushing the power button.
But it got better. By the second act, when Bernadette Peters was no longer an ugly witch but instead could rock her crazy 90's poof, she obviously thought that her hair was comedy enough and so returned to saying her lines like a normal person, as did everybody else.
Her flying around in her cape for the entirety of Last Midnight though?
Kinda ruined it.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Into the Woods, It's Time To Go... No, Really Though.
I'm watching a recording of Into the Woods on Netflix... not impressed.
Usually when I watch a video of a show that I'm rehearsing, I do nothing but marvel at the level of skill exhibited by the actors, and compare the work that my cast is currently doing with that of the professionals.
Not in this case.
I expected to be absolutely blown away by Bernadette Peters, whose part I'm playing. I was fully prepared to take a lethal blow to my ego when I saw how fabulous she was in comparison to my own characterization of the part.
Deeefinitely not happening.
I'm not going to give up though. I'll keep watching until the end.
Because I'm a trooper like that.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Quotes To Live By
Shouldn't be all rainbows and sparkles. Because those are the quotes that, once everything turns to the wind and scatters the perfect little bubble the quote revolved around, get tossed over a shoulder and trampled into the dirt.
They should be the quotes that you can read in the hard times or the happy times, and yet still get the same amount of insight out of them.
My current personal favorite?
"Life isn't about staying dry, it's about learning how to play in the rain."
They should be the quotes that you can read in the hard times or the happy times, and yet still get the same amount of insight out of them.
My current personal favorite?
"Life isn't about staying dry, it's about learning how to play in the rain."
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
I Want
For it not to be now.
I want it to be a week and a half from now.
So that I can go to the east coast with ma daddeh and look at all of the fabulous colleges.
I also want my summer homework to go away.
I want it to be a week and a half from now.
So that I can go to the east coast with ma daddeh and look at all of the fabulous colleges.
I also want my summer homework to go away.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Please Tell Me If You See Any Vampires
Because apparently, according to mosquitoes everywhere, my blood tastes awesome.
And if they like me, I'm fucked if I ever meet a vampire.
And if they like me, I'm fucked if I ever meet a vampire.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Stop Clapping. Seriously.
I was watching some stand-up on Comedy Central tonight. Mike Birbiglia. He had that wit where he would tell his jokes as if he was just saying them because they were funny in his head, but he didn't really expect for people to laugh at them.
Unfortunately, the poor man couldn't even get a whole joke out before he was completely drowned out by the noise of the seals in the audience flopping their little hands together in some sort of deranged appreciation for the jokes that they couldn't hear.
Like, seriously, is that the way that you show your appreciation for somebody?
"Oh my god, he's soooo funny, I'm going to laugh at the first couple words of any joke that he starts, and even though he hasn't actually gotten to the part that is going to make it funny, I know it will be eventually, so I'm going to prematurely congratulate him by applauding over the rest of his words so that he is forced to take unnaturally long breaths in order for my applause to die down enough that everybody else in the audience can hear him."
Honestly. Is that their strategy?
Just stop clapping.
Unfortunately, the poor man couldn't even get a whole joke out before he was completely drowned out by the noise of the seals in the audience flopping their little hands together in some sort of deranged appreciation for the jokes that they couldn't hear.
Like, seriously, is that the way that you show your appreciation for somebody?
"Oh my god, he's soooo funny, I'm going to laugh at the first couple words of any joke that he starts, and even though he hasn't actually gotten to the part that is going to make it funny, I know it will be eventually, so I'm going to prematurely congratulate him by applauding over the rest of his words so that he is forced to take unnaturally long breaths in order for my applause to die down enough that everybody else in the audience can hear him."
Honestly. Is that their strategy?
Just stop clapping.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Idina Menzel Is My Hero
So, apparently promptness on posting isn't my strong suit... Who knew.
Anyway, I got to see Idina Menzel in concert with the Colorado Symphony Orchestra on Sunday, and, in a word, it was amazing.
While watching her sing, Menzel is totally lost in the music. She is completely in character, and nothing but serious. She even sang a few songs from Wicked, and as a fan who knows the songs by heart according to her voice from the recordings, she might as well have just painted herself green before she got on stage, because she sounded exactly like Elphaba, not Idina.
At least, she did until she forgot the words.
It was only Defying Gravity. You know, no big deal.
She wasn't always serious though. She's an incredibly personable performer, managing to look stunning in a bright yellow gown and at the same time telling embarrassing stories and drinking orange juice (which, may I add, she almost choked on a couple times. Apparently that happens when you're trying to breathe and drink at once).
She didn't wear shoes. She sang us songs that she and her husband made up for everyday occurrences with their baby boy, such as the song for when he falls asleep while breast feeding and the song for when they're going for a car ride with their black, Jewish dog.
But mostly, she just sang. It was fantastic.
Her voice is so effortless and smooth, and it just makes you want to go home and sing for hours.
Sigh... just thinking about it... Sigh.
Anyway, I got to see Idina Menzel in concert with the Colorado Symphony Orchestra on Sunday, and, in a word, it was amazing.
While watching her sing, Menzel is totally lost in the music. She is completely in character, and nothing but serious. She even sang a few songs from Wicked, and as a fan who knows the songs by heart according to her voice from the recordings, she might as well have just painted herself green before she got on stage, because she sounded exactly like Elphaba, not Idina.
At least, she did until she forgot the words.
It was only Defying Gravity. You know, no big deal.
She wasn't always serious though. She's an incredibly personable performer, managing to look stunning in a bright yellow gown and at the same time telling embarrassing stories and drinking orange juice (which, may I add, she almost choked on a couple times. Apparently that happens when you're trying to breathe and drink at once).
She didn't wear shoes. She sang us songs that she and her husband made up for everyday occurrences with their baby boy, such as the song for when he falls asleep while breast feeding and the song for when they're going for a car ride with their black, Jewish dog.
But mostly, she just sang. It was fantastic.
Her voice is so effortless and smooth, and it just makes you want to go home and sing for hours.
Sigh... just thinking about it... Sigh.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Official Beyotch of the Night
In customer service, you see some pretty colorful characters. Anybody could tell you that.
Most of the time they're just weird. Or stupid.
Sometimes, they're little slices of hell cast down to Earth to make the rest of us suffer for sins that we may or may not have committed. Jesus died for them, these people live for them.
Here's a basic rundown of a conversation I had tonight.
First, let's set the stage. It's about 8:30, the store's not terribly crowded. I'm helping one group of people, there's another lady up front, and a couple people sitting on the benches waiting for their order.
As I finish with the little group I'm helping and they go toddling off, drink cups in hand, another guy walks in. He's in his twenties, cute enough to be pleasant company but my pulse is still exactly where it should be. The lady who was there before him is standing awkwardly between the two registers, but closer to the one that I'm not at, staring awkwardly up. Like, I can't tell if she's reading the menu boards, or if she just shifted her gaze in that general direction and got stuck. There was so much awkward in her situation, I didn't even know what to make of it.
Some people stand in such awkward manners because they're truly dumbfounded by the contents of the menu board and, despite the fact that they have been there now for multiple minutes, they still can't really decide what they want. And considering how many we get of that specimen, let's just say I wasn't phased.
So said hey, and asked how "they" were doing today. That way, if Madam Awkward was feeling like she was finally ready to get in the big kid line and place an order, she could snap out of her freaky little trance and head over to my register, aka the only one with a person standing in front of it.
She did not.
She continued to stand exactly where she was, looking exactly where she was.
So the guy kind of starts to head up, we're both in that unsure mode of "Who's next? Is it you? I don't know, she was here, but she doesn't look ready... ah hell, it's you."
He steps up, orders, goes to sit and wait, easy peasy.
As soon as he walked past her, boom trance over.
"Excuse me, I was here first. Why would you help him first? I had been here. That is so RUDE. I mean, I've been here, and what is this, just suddenly this cute guy walks in and you just ignore me? I cannot BELIEVE how RUDE you are. I CANNOT BELIEVE it. That is so ridiculously rude."
Woah there lady, calm it. Now don't be fooled by the fact that I used periods instead of exclamation points. That does not mean that she was any degree calmer. In fact, she was stark raving pissed. Here I was, thinking that she was just another dumbo who couldn't decide what she wanted for dinner, but actually she's some ego-bruised middle age devil sent here to make generalizations about teenage girls. Who knew?
So she's going on about how ridiculously. rude. I am, while I'm telling her that it really wasn't what was intended at all. My manager comes up after she says that I ignored her for a boy (who, let's face it, really wasn't even that cute) and assures her that that's really not the case at all, and it's definitely not the way we work. Then he gives her a 70% discount on one of her dishes, throw a few free desserts at her, and the whole time we're apologizing.
"I'm really very sorry, ma'am. I didn't intend to ignore you at all. We just have a lot of people who come in and are looking at the menu, and I didn't want to rush you. I wasn't sure if you were ready. I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to ignore you, I really didn't."
"It's so just unbelievably rude. I wasn't looking at the menu, I was watching my food get put down over there. (She was there to pick up a phone-in... who knew). And then I watched that girl in the pink sweatshirt try and take it. (Actually, she was checking to see when her order would be ready). I just can't believe that you would ignore me. I was here first. You just wait until you get to be my age and people ignore you."
Mind you, she wasn't that old. Forties, maybe early fifties? Yeah, not that old.
So we apologized many times, and sent her grumbling out the door. Only after she asked for my name, of course, probably so that she could lodge an official complaint on the website against the obviously sex-crazed teenage girl.
The Work Emma was very apologetic. Yes ma'am, of course ma'am, it's all my fault ma'am, I'm very, very sorry.
If it was the Real Emma?
"Excuse me, ma'am, do you realize how obscenely abrasive you are? I mean, Jesus Christ, you weren't even in a line. What is this, Mobs-R-Us? No ma'am, we form lines here. In fact, we even have little ropes to help you out. Generally, the best idea is to just stand right behind the person who's currently being helped, that way you're next in line. Get it? Oh, and by the way, while you were lurking by the second register, we clearly told you on the phone to come to the third. And either way you count it, the one you're standing by will always be the second, because it happens to be in the middle. So props on following directions, Satan spawn. And you know what? He is cute, and he's a hell of a lot cuter than you are, because let's face it, you're getting on there in years and you have way too many wrinkles to be considered attractive. Also, any inkling of a desire that I may have at one point fostered toward wanting to help you has been completely and brutally extinguished by the fact that you are a huge bitch who needs to locate whatever has been stuck up your butt and dislodge it, asap. OH, and if you're still hungry, there's a Wendy's next door. Open 24 hours. Have a good night."
If only...
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Endeavors of the Kitchen
Yesterday, I told my mom that I wanted to make dinner.
She was so excited / relieved, I'm surprised she didn't just throw a dish towel at me and run giggling into the other room.
Ah, the simple joys.
Anyway, tonight my agenda was to make for dinner strawberry & white wine chicken breasts coupled with a salad of fresh lettuce and spinach, strawberries, almond slices, feta cheese, and poppyseed dressing, followed by a dessert of almond cake.
I found the recipe for the cake first, on a new blog I just found called Orangette. Of course, it wasn't until after I baked the cake that I realized she is in Seattle, and so the ingredients might need to be slightly altered, considering I live about 5000 feet higher than her and in considerably less humidity.
Regardless. I made the cake.
So while that sat out to cool all afternoon, I set the chicken marinating in the fridge in a mixture of white wine and rosemary, and went to a voice lesson and a going-away party. When I got back, it was go time.
I'd really been wanting something with a strawberry flavor, so I found a recipe that was not just a salad with strawberries in it, but an actual meal with a hint of strawberry flair.
The cooking was fairly easy, but thinking back on it I would have toned down on the amount of spices put into it, and let the rosemary simply sit in the white wine and mix with the marinade instead of heaping it on top of the chicken in the overly aesthetic way that I opted for.
So when time came to actually serve dinner, it all looked pretty nice.
And may I just say that for the record, if you're ever trying a new recipe or branching out your cooking in a way that you're not entirely 100% certain of the quality of your results, try it out on your parents. Or at least the one who eats the most. They make a great audience.
Everything was good. Actually, it was really good.
The chicken could have used fewer spices, the strawberry sauce could have been thinner.
And, if you ever get a recipe from a lower altitude than you, it's probably a good idea to be proactive about that.
It was supposed to be crumbly, instead it was a little bit softer and more oily, so closer to a pie than a cake. If you want the recipe so that you can muck it up same as me, you can find it here.
However, once again, the father-eating-audience made all of the imperfections completely okay by gobbling down his piece like a diabetic with low blood sugar and asking if he could "have another, please."
Overall? Not the best dinner I've ever had. It could use improvement. For instance, the next time I go to make the almond cake, I'm going to add more flour and less almond extract, and make sure that the cooking spray on the parchment paper is nice and light.
But hey, at least my mom didn't have to make dinner.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Ooh, Worldly
Browsin' my stats last night. Page views. Oy, it's by country. Score.
People have read my blog from Malaysia and the UK?
I FEEL SO WORLDLY.
That's actually really awesome. So, if you're from a different state or country or something, some place where I probably don't know you, let me know! I think it would be wicked sweet to get comments from people who aren't even from my country.
Wicked. Sweet.
On a different note, I really like feta cheese and strawberries. Now if only there were actually recipes in which they went together.
Maybe I will make one up.
I will call it... "Fetaberries."
Keep you posted on that one. Because let's face it, it sounds like quite the gem.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Productivity, I Own You
Today, I learned a new song on guitar, painted our porch, made dinner, read a story in French, and brought pudding to my friend whose face is determined to have it's revenge for her removal of its wisdom teeth.
What did you do?
What did you do?
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Green Lantern: Deserves More Credit Than It's Been Given
Yes, this is going to be a movie review. Figured I would branch out and try something new, especially as this may possibly be something that I'm interested in doing for a career in the future.
But before I start, just let me say: I hate reviews.
Not all of them, of course, but most of them. Some are decent, but some are written by people who I can't imagine ever having a good time at a movie. Which just makes me wonder... why the hell would you write movie reviews if you don't like movies?
But I love movies, and I love superhero movies. I'll admit, I never got as into the Batman and Spiderman series as other people did, mainly because I wasn't a fan of the acting by some of the characters.
Regardless, I enjoy all of the superhero movies that I've seen, and that is because of what they are. Which is one fact that I think a lot of people need clarification on.
I never read the comics. I don't know the finer details of the character's backgrounds. I wish I did, and maybe one day I will read them all.
But so many people don't seem to understand that even in today's world of cinematic pseudo-realism, where moviemakers try to make every movie seem as if it could actually happen in real life, the leading characteristic of superhero movies is the fact that they're not realistic.
Any evil can be defeated, the hero has masses of untapped potential, the hero will win their battle and get the girl. That's old news. But from what I've heard, some people seem to be unaware of this age-old phenomena. One of the biggest complaints that I've heard is about how cheesy the movie is, and how predictable is it, etc., etc.
That's part of the glory.
When I go to see a superhero movie, I'm not wondering at how the story will turn out. I know that once the villain is introduced, he may get worse and seem to be erring on victory, but the hero will defeat him and save his country, or family, or whatever it is that's being threatened. My interest lies in how the artistic aspects will play out. The script has to be good, even if it is direct; the fights must be well choreographed, and the special effects convincing.
One review I read said that "Green Lantern uses so much CGI it's a wonder anyone bothered bringing a camera to the set." But isn't that what superhero movies are about? We all know the story, the flips and twists that fail to surprise us but not to entertain us. Knowing what you're going to see, why would you be disappointed that it delivers exactly what you're expecting?
But enough of me pointing out the inconsistencies in the complaints.
Green Lantern had some pretty strong things going for it.
First off, I liked the character development. True, the movie took some compression and modification in order to make an engaging screenplay out of the original story, but they still did a good job of telling you who the characters were, and what their relationship was to one another.
It could have used a little more time in the development of the conflict, as I felt that the succession from discovering a new and imminent threat to it's destruction was a little rushed, but they did what they could without adding too much length to the movie.
There was more than one side to Hal's character. He had fear, he had strength, he had devotion. And between the script and Ryan Reynolds' acting, that was all demonstrated very well.
Reynolds did a fantastic job. Obviously, as a superhero, you have to look the part, and he most certainly did. But Reynolds took it one step farther and fit the part perfectly through his actions, as a good actor should. He had the perfect facial expressions, and dynamite delivery of not only the cocky wit that he's known for, but the more serious and dramatic lines as well. Even those who didn't appreciate or approve of the rest of the movie would have to admit that between Reynolds, Blake Lively, and Peter Sarsgaard (the villain,Hector) the acting was undoubtedly worth watching.
They're afraid of the color yellow. They use the color green to fight evil. Their armor grows onto their bodies in times of trouble. They can create anything using their will.
Is it ridiculous? Of course. It is a movie that fit perfectly into the superhero parameters laid out for it?
Most definitely.
But before I start, just let me say: I hate reviews.
Not all of them, of course, but most of them. Some are decent, but some are written by people who I can't imagine ever having a good time at a movie. Which just makes me wonder... why the hell would you write movie reviews if you don't like movies?
But I love movies, and I love superhero movies. I'll admit, I never got as into the Batman and Spiderman series as other people did, mainly because I wasn't a fan of the acting by some of the characters.
Regardless, I enjoy all of the superhero movies that I've seen, and that is because of what they are. Which is one fact that I think a lot of people need clarification on.
I never read the comics. I don't know the finer details of the character's backgrounds. I wish I did, and maybe one day I will read them all.
But so many people don't seem to understand that even in today's world of cinematic pseudo-realism, where moviemakers try to make every movie seem as if it could actually happen in real life, the leading characteristic of superhero movies is the fact that they're not realistic.
Any evil can be defeated, the hero has masses of untapped potential, the hero will win their battle and get the girl. That's old news. But from what I've heard, some people seem to be unaware of this age-old phenomena. One of the biggest complaints that I've heard is about how cheesy the movie is, and how predictable is it, etc., etc.
That's part of the glory.
When I go to see a superhero movie, I'm not wondering at how the story will turn out. I know that once the villain is introduced, he may get worse and seem to be erring on victory, but the hero will defeat him and save his country, or family, or whatever it is that's being threatened. My interest lies in how the artistic aspects will play out. The script has to be good, even if it is direct; the fights must be well choreographed, and the special effects convincing.
One review I read said that "Green Lantern uses so much CGI it's a wonder anyone bothered bringing a camera to the set." But isn't that what superhero movies are about? We all know the story, the flips and twists that fail to surprise us but not to entertain us. Knowing what you're going to see, why would you be disappointed that it delivers exactly what you're expecting?
But enough of me pointing out the inconsistencies in the complaints.
Green Lantern had some pretty strong things going for it.
First off, I liked the character development. True, the movie took some compression and modification in order to make an engaging screenplay out of the original story, but they still did a good job of telling you who the characters were, and what their relationship was to one another.
It could have used a little more time in the development of the conflict, as I felt that the succession from discovering a new and imminent threat to it's destruction was a little rushed, but they did what they could without adding too much length to the movie.
There was more than one side to Hal's character. He had fear, he had strength, he had devotion. And between the script and Ryan Reynolds' acting, that was all demonstrated very well.
Reynolds did a fantastic job. Obviously, as a superhero, you have to look the part, and he most certainly did. But Reynolds took it one step farther and fit the part perfectly through his actions, as a good actor should. He had the perfect facial expressions, and dynamite delivery of not only the cocky wit that he's known for, but the more serious and dramatic lines as well. Even those who didn't appreciate or approve of the rest of the movie would have to admit that between Reynolds, Blake Lively, and Peter Sarsgaard (the villain,Hector) the acting was undoubtedly worth watching.
They're afraid of the color yellow. They use the color green to fight evil. Their armor grows onto their bodies in times of trouble. They can create anything using their will.
Is it ridiculous? Of course. It is a movie that fit perfectly into the superhero parameters laid out for it?
Most definitely.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Deep Intrigues of the Night
My mind has been feeling very philosophical lately.
Everything has a meaning. Everything has a lesson. Everything is trying to teach me something deeper.
My frustration at my friends has taught me apathy. I mean, I've always excelled at being apathetic, but this has given me a real reason. Why should I allow people who obviously don't care to affect me so much?
I shouldn't.
Those people who do care will talk to me, will hang out with me, will make plans with me and maintain a relationship with me without me having to break my back in the efforts to keep it together.
So I shouldn't give a single shit about the people who don't.
Well, glad that's settled.
Easier said that done, I'm finding, but I feel like the repetition of the same situations is life's way of telling me that with a little practice, I can master the art of selective friendships and no longer let the ones that deserve my apathy instead derive my tears of anguish.
Talking to other people about their problems had made me realize that I'm not very good at consoling people.
I can listen to your problems. I can tell you the reality of the situation, and the reality of the possible outcomes. I'm good at that.
I'm just not very good at 'looking on the bright side' or 'putting an optimistic spin on things'. I know that now.
I suppose in a way, I always knew that. I'm never all that optimistic with myself, because I prefer to think of my situation in the most realistic an air as possible, so that I know the real life consequences of my actions, instead of the 'best possible scenario'. Now I know that applies to other people, too.
But I also know that I like listening. Even if I don't offer much advice, and all I can say is "well dude that sucks, but let me tell you how bad it actually is versus how bad you think it is," I'm still there for people whenever they need me.
I've made pretty damn good progress on the acoustic since I started on Monday.
I always think that there are some people who can achieve great things in short periods of time, but for most people it's impossible.
Even though I haven't had near as much time as I wanted to work on it, I've learned a lot about guitar in the few days and the little amounts of time that I've spent with it. And I feel like all it takes is dedication, and I can do anything.
Which motivates me. If I can do anything, then I should set some damn goals.
Goal #1: Learn Italian by the end of summer. See it on my summer checklist? Wait for August when I can check that puppy off.
Goal #2: Learn acoustic enough to be able to play Paper Aeroplane by KT Tunstall by the end of summer.
Welp, this summer looks like it might be a tad busy.
But I think that I can do it.
I feel like this post got a little ramble-y, and I don't particularly feel like reading over it for continuity like I usually do, so... I'll just say this.
Everything happens for a reason. I don't know that I believe in fate, or pre-planned destinies, or gods. But I do know that every instance in life can teach you something if you just look for it.
And when you look for it, you can learn a damn lot.
Everything has a meaning. Everything has a lesson. Everything is trying to teach me something deeper.
My frustration at my friends has taught me apathy. I mean, I've always excelled at being apathetic, but this has given me a real reason. Why should I allow people who obviously don't care to affect me so much?
I shouldn't.
Those people who do care will talk to me, will hang out with me, will make plans with me and maintain a relationship with me without me having to break my back in the efforts to keep it together.
So I shouldn't give a single shit about the people who don't.
Well, glad that's settled.
Easier said that done, I'm finding, but I feel like the repetition of the same situations is life's way of telling me that with a little practice, I can master the art of selective friendships and no longer let the ones that deserve my apathy instead derive my tears of anguish.
Talking to other people about their problems had made me realize that I'm not very good at consoling people.
I can listen to your problems. I can tell you the reality of the situation, and the reality of the possible outcomes. I'm good at that.
I'm just not very good at 'looking on the bright side' or 'putting an optimistic spin on things'. I know that now.
I suppose in a way, I always knew that. I'm never all that optimistic with myself, because I prefer to think of my situation in the most realistic an air as possible, so that I know the real life consequences of my actions, instead of the 'best possible scenario'. Now I know that applies to other people, too.
But I also know that I like listening. Even if I don't offer much advice, and all I can say is "well dude that sucks, but let me tell you how bad it actually is versus how bad you think it is," I'm still there for people whenever they need me.
I've made pretty damn good progress on the acoustic since I started on Monday.
I always think that there are some people who can achieve great things in short periods of time, but for most people it's impossible.
Even though I haven't had near as much time as I wanted to work on it, I've learned a lot about guitar in the few days and the little amounts of time that I've spent with it. And I feel like all it takes is dedication, and I can do anything.
Which motivates me. If I can do anything, then I should set some damn goals.
Goal #1: Learn Italian by the end of summer. See it on my summer checklist? Wait for August when I can check that puppy off.
Goal #2: Learn acoustic enough to be able to play Paper Aeroplane by KT Tunstall by the end of summer.
Welp, this summer looks like it might be a tad busy.
But I think that I can do it.
I feel like this post got a little ramble-y, and I don't particularly feel like reading over it for continuity like I usually do, so... I'll just say this.
Everything happens for a reason. I don't know that I believe in fate, or pre-planned destinies, or gods. But I do know that every instance in life can teach you something if you just look for it.
And when you look for it, you can learn a damn lot.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Vacation From What, Exactly
I've never been too big of a believer in the golden rule.
I mean, treat others as you want to be treated? But what if the others are big, fat idiots?
Yeah, I'm too brash for that.
But to an extent, I do understand it. On a basic level of respect, I understand it. Not for everybody, mind you, but for some people. If I like somebody, or consider them my friend, then unless they do something to merit disrespect, they deserve golden treatment.
Because to me, respect shows that you care. If you consider somebody your friend, you will respect them enough to tell them the truth, or stick to plans, or not disappoint them.
One would think.
However, that has not been my experience. At all.
I know that I stick to plans more than most people. I know that I don't tell just anybody "sure, let's hang out" like most people do. I only tell the people that I actually care to hang out with. The others get rejected. Tastefully, of course.
What with it being summer, I feel like I should see people more. Do more stuff with them. Talk to them. Whatever.
So instead of my typical "meh" attitude, where my rationale consists of the satisfaction that I see people at school and the lack of necessity to see them elsewhere, I've actually been trying to do things with people.
And getting blown off.
Every time.
Now, it's not exactly a new sensation to me. The people that I befriend apparently don't hold the same moral values of respect that I do, and the past three or so summers I'm pretty sure I've gone the whole time without seeing my school friends once.
So you would think that the fact that it still happens wouldn't daze me at all.
But it does.
I feel like if I plan something with somebody, even if I'm not too invested in it, it's my obligation to go through with it. And I've discovered over and over again that even the things which don't sound fun on paper usually end up being twice as entertaining or fulfilling as originally forecast.
Yet time and time again I see that other people don't feel the same sense of obligation, and time and time again I'm disappointed.
Despite my efforts, I see that this summer will be just like all of the others.
Shattered plans and a proliferation of disappointments.
I mean, treat others as you want to be treated? But what if the others are big, fat idiots?
Yeah, I'm too brash for that.
But to an extent, I do understand it. On a basic level of respect, I understand it. Not for everybody, mind you, but for some people. If I like somebody, or consider them my friend, then unless they do something to merit disrespect, they deserve golden treatment.
Because to me, respect shows that you care. If you consider somebody your friend, you will respect them enough to tell them the truth, or stick to plans, or not disappoint them.
One would think.
However, that has not been my experience. At all.
I know that I stick to plans more than most people. I know that I don't tell just anybody "sure, let's hang out" like most people do. I only tell the people that I actually care to hang out with. The others get rejected. Tastefully, of course.
What with it being summer, I feel like I should see people more. Do more stuff with them. Talk to them. Whatever.
So instead of my typical "meh" attitude, where my rationale consists of the satisfaction that I see people at school and the lack of necessity to see them elsewhere, I've actually been trying to do things with people.
And getting blown off.
Every time.
Now, it's not exactly a new sensation to me. The people that I befriend apparently don't hold the same moral values of respect that I do, and the past three or so summers I'm pretty sure I've gone the whole time without seeing my school friends once.
So you would think that the fact that it still happens wouldn't daze me at all.
But it does.
I feel like if I plan something with somebody, even if I'm not too invested in it, it's my obligation to go through with it. And I've discovered over and over again that even the things which don't sound fun on paper usually end up being twice as entertaining or fulfilling as originally forecast.
Yet time and time again I see that other people don't feel the same sense of obligation, and time and time again I'm disappointed.
Despite my efforts, I see that this summer will be just like all of the others.
Shattered plans and a proliferation of disappointments.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Welcome, Creatures of the Night
I read a quote on Stumbleupon that said for every night you go to bed without praying, there's a 60% chance that an unnatural creature watches you while you sleep.
I should start charging admission.
I should start charging admission.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Warning: Extreme Temperatures
Have you ever been hanging out with friends and had nothing to do, so you've looked up lists hot men, and been thoroughly disappointed at other people's judgement?
You haven't?
That's okay.
I've done it enough times for the both of us.
It's my favorite pastime with some of my friends. You know who you are.
Anyway, I decided it was silly to keep relying on other people to have judgement as awesome as mine, because let's face it, that just ain't happenin'.
So last night, Alyssa and I came up with a list.
Which I promptly lost.
Poor list... it never even made it home.
But I've recreated it for you. With...
pictures!
Hell yes. Enjoy.
Because you know that even if you say you don't like it, deep down, you really do.
P.S.... I tried to rank them, but you have no idea how big of an undertaking that is. So take it as a rough estimate.
1. Chris Hemsworth
Score one: Australian. Score two: Thor. Score three: ...just look at the picture. 'Nuff said.
2. Jake Gyllenhaal
Adorable. He should be my friend.
3. Ashton Kutcher
His smile is so cuuuuute. Plus, What Happens in Vegas and Killers are two of my favorite romantic comedies.
4. James Marsden
His smile? And the fact that he sings? And is actually good at it?
5. Mark Wahlberg
Certified badass. Go watch Shooter. Right now.
6. Karl Urban
One of my favorites. It's awesome how even in the movies that his character isn't a protagonist, he ends up being a good guy in the end. It's like the screenwriters will know that no matter how much of a tool his character is, people will still like him.
7. Josh Duhamel
He's a freak. And it's adorable. I judge him a little bit for being married to Fergie, but it's okay.
"I'm gonna count to fi--" "Yeah? I'm gonna count to three."
8. Channing Tatum
So hot. I picture him as being the guy who's as dumb as a bag of rocks, but... comme ci, comme ca.
Shirtless? Necessary? Sooo necessary...
9. Chris Pine
Also affectionately known as Tiberius. Yes Captain.
10. Ryan Reynolds
He was hilarious, now he's ripped, either way he fits the list. Plus, now he's Deadpool AND Green Lantern. Drool.
11. Matt Damon
If he ever needs another ride to Paris, I'll be there. You can bet on it.
12. Patrick Wilson
He can save whole movies. Ever seen Evening?
13. Matt Bomer
His eyes.
14. Garrett Hedlund
Total Brad Pitt doppleganger. Or maybe I'm just biased because of Troy. Cutiiie.
15. Jason Statham
Although personally, I prefer Handsome Rob.
16. Hugh Jackman
I'm Wolverine, bitch! Yeah... and you're handsome, too.
17. Josh Lucas
So, I didn't know his name until, like, yesterday... But his accent is adorable.
18. Zac Efron
Even though HSM make a joke out of him, I actually do think he's a decent actor, and because I now have respect for him, I allow myself to admit that he's preeetty fine.
19. Bradley Cooper
So I actually saw him in like three different movies before I realized it was all the same guy... Good one, Emma.
20. John Krasinski
He's like the voice inside my head that makes sarcastic comments all the time, except he actually says all of the things that I only think. And he's cute while doing it, so nobody hates him.
21. Brad Pitt
Classic. And I have so much respect for him as an actor. And he's beautiful. Whatever.
22. Colin Egglesfield
Have you seen Something Borrowed? You haven't? GO SEE IT.
23. Gerard Butler
Who can resist a Scot. I mean, really?
24. Johnny Depp
He's classic sexy, even if his hair is silly.
25. Chris Evans
Can't wait for Captain America now.
You haven't?
That's okay.
I've done it enough times for the both of us.
It's my favorite pastime with some of my friends. You know who you are.
Anyway, I decided it was silly to keep relying on other people to have judgement as awesome as mine, because let's face it, that just ain't happenin'.
So last night, Alyssa and I came up with a list.
Which I promptly lost.
Poor list... it never even made it home.
But I've recreated it for you. With...
pictures!
Hell yes. Enjoy.
Because you know that even if you say you don't like it, deep down, you really do.
P.S.... I tried to rank them, but you have no idea how big of an undertaking that is. So take it as a rough estimate.
1. Chris Hemsworth
Score one: Australian. Score two: Thor. Score three: ...just look at the picture. 'Nuff said.
2. Jake Gyllenhaal
Adorable. He should be my friend.
3. Ashton Kutcher
His smile is so cuuuuute. Plus, What Happens in Vegas and Killers are two of my favorite romantic comedies.
4. James Marsden
His smile? And the fact that he sings? And is actually good at it?
5. Mark Wahlberg
Certified badass. Go watch Shooter. Right now.
6. Karl Urban
One of my favorites. It's awesome how even in the movies that his character isn't a protagonist, he ends up being a good guy in the end. It's like the screenwriters will know that no matter how much of a tool his character is, people will still like him.
7. Josh Duhamel
He's a freak. And it's adorable. I judge him a little bit for being married to Fergie, but it's okay.
"I'm gonna count to fi--" "Yeah? I'm gonna count to three."
8. Channing Tatum
So hot. I picture him as being the guy who's as dumb as a bag of rocks, but... comme ci, comme ca.
Shirtless? Necessary? Sooo necessary...
9. Chris Pine
Also affectionately known as Tiberius. Yes Captain.
10. Ryan Reynolds
He was hilarious, now he's ripped, either way he fits the list. Plus, now he's Deadpool AND Green Lantern. Drool.
11. Matt Damon
If he ever needs another ride to Paris, I'll be there. You can bet on it.
12. Patrick Wilson
He can save whole movies. Ever seen Evening?
13. Matt Bomer
His eyes.
14. Garrett Hedlund
Total Brad Pitt doppleganger. Or maybe I'm just biased because of Troy. Cutiiie.
15. Jason Statham
Although personally, I prefer Handsome Rob.
16. Hugh Jackman
I'm Wolverine, bitch! Yeah... and you're handsome, too.
17. Josh Lucas
So, I didn't know his name until, like, yesterday... But his accent is adorable.
18. Zac Efron
Even though HSM make a joke out of him, I actually do think he's a decent actor, and because I now have respect for him, I allow myself to admit that he's preeetty fine.
19. Bradley Cooper
So I actually saw him in like three different movies before I realized it was all the same guy... Good one, Emma.
20. John Krasinski
He's like the voice inside my head that makes sarcastic comments all the time, except he actually says all of the things that I only think. And he's cute while doing it, so nobody hates him.
21. Brad Pitt
Classic. And I have so much respect for him as an actor. And he's beautiful. Whatever.
22. Colin Egglesfield
Have you seen Something Borrowed? You haven't? GO SEE IT.
23. Gerard Butler
Who can resist a Scot. I mean, really?
24. Johnny Depp
He's classic sexy, even if his hair is silly.
25. Chris Evans
Can't wait for Captain America now.
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