Title's Are Overrated

Ahhhh. What a beautiful colorwheel you are. Adorable.

You know what? Don't worry yourself. We're fine. We're all friends here.

And yum.

I really dislike old people wearing TOMS, really people of any age wearing them. Something about it absolutely disgusts me. Yesterday, I noticed that my 60-something-year-old professor was wearing TOMS - black sequined TOMS. Why?! And today, I was coming down the escalator of my work and saw a man in his upper 40's wearing green TOMS. But he wasn't your average 40 something. He was dressed in khaki shorts and a summer button down shirt and had very dark skin and blonde shaggy hair. He looked like the embodiment of the typical doting but extremely distant bachelor that takes his gal pal on a pretend family beach vacation. But not the type that actually goes to the beach. He was the type of guy that stays in his hotel (which has a tanning bed readily available), occasionally gets pedicures and goes.... yachting or parasailing. (Also most likely has an addiction to fine wine and rare imported fish). That guy.

Already decided. I'm smoking cigarettes in my bathtub when I get home. I am not going to abide by my previous "no smoking in the house" rule I made for myself- I want to smoke in my house tonight! In my bathtub. Most likely fully clothed. Possibly reading. Possibly napping. Definitely taking pictures. It is already epic in my mind; I can't wait.

Ahhhh, life is good. Surprisingly refreshing. Or refreshingly surprising- I'm not sure which. But I do like it a great deal.

“What should I do about the wild and the tame? The wild heart that wants to be free, and the tame heart that wants to come home. I want to be held. I don’t want you to come too close. I want you to scoop me up and bring me home at nights. I don’t want to tell you where I am. I want to keep a place among the rocks where no one can find me. I want to be with you.”
— Jeanette Winterson

Books 'n Shniz

Libraries are so depressing. My eardrums hurt after the loudest beep I've ever heard in my life through a headphone. It smells weird. And I'm about to get locked in, which sounds near the scariest thing I could do. I'll post something awesome tomorrow. I already know what. Just no time right now.

You're welcome for your play by play. So dumb.

This That I Hear

Do you ever listen to those non-sounds you hear? Imagine one of those rare times when all is completely quiet, you're all alone, no air conditioner rattling in your house, no birds chirping, no neighbor blaring their less-than-ideal music. Not a sound that you can put your finger on, if that were even possible. Seemingly utter silence. You don't realize you're hearing anything. But I think about the film crew on Milam, that twisty street I never remember the name of by the river, the factory you can see from downtown, the trains... I'm sure that we're not hearing nothing. Rather a none too small collection of somethings. If all of those things suddenly stopped, don't you think it would sound different? What does absolute silence even sound like? And what is it that we actually hear when we think we're hearing nothing? When we think we're hearing silence, I imagine we're hearing hundreds of different sounds that add up into the low hum of some frequency we didn't even notice. But it's there. It's mind boggling how much goes on around us without our even knowing. Absolute silence must be almost frightening.

WHO WANTS TO MAKE SHOES WITH ME?!!!!

Bucket List Entries

• Finish my scarf.
• Sky dive!!!!! (I know I've probably already said this on here, but this is the OFFICIAL entry.)
• "Chew someone out" successfully. (This really shouldn't be on any normal person's bucket list, but I think that, for me, it would actually be a good character trait to have- having the balls to say something when it needs to be said and following through with it.)
• Give blood and plasma.

Psychic Rain

Mr. Bean, I love you.

I'm psychic. But there are two things I'm psychic about that always end up negative for me- the first being the following: if I straighten my hair, I know it will rain that day. I'd bet money on it. The second negative psychic, future-telling skill I possess is THIS: if I wear white or light colored clothing, I also know it will rain.

"LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING!"

As I have just begun what will most likely be my last fall semester of college, I am reminded of one of these instances. I was always the girl that wore jeans, chucks and usually a tshirt, hoody, jacket, scarf, etc - as many layers that really shouldn't go together as I possibly could (I tend to like that sort of thing in the fall particularly.) But all of this is beside the point, since the story took place in spring. But if you take nothing else from this, know that I never dressed up for class, and that I made fun of people that did- you know the girls that show up to class looking like they're competing for Ms. Universe. "I'm a single hOtT female with a passion for animals. I want the world to know that if we work together, we can build a better envirn...ament for our petsssss." *Adorable flirtatious smile

Antywhay, I had bought a yellow cotton halter dress from Goodwill that was absolutely adorable. It was a pale yellow, and fairly light, but more of a stiff dress than the flowy kind. I decided to wear it to class. I don't remember seeing any clouds at all on the way to school. However, as soon as I was getting out of my car, a torrential downpour began. Of course, I carry no umbrella because I don't mind rain and I like being surprised. BUT this time, it would've been nice. At first, I started running to the Business Education building, but within 20 seconds, I was completely soaked. Absolutely soaked. Like just-jumped-in-a-pool soaked. So I just took off my shoes to hold them so they didn't get ruined, and started walking to class. There was no point in running - might as well enjoy the rain at this point. I walked underneath the awning, put my shoes back on and proceeded to walk towards class. While I was in the hallway, I looked down at my dress. The yellow dress was... no longer stiff, to put it lightly. It was much like a clear body suit. I grabbed the front and tried to pull it off of my legs, but as soon as I let go, it clung right back to me. It was like a magnetized dress or a "dress pant". And dresses that are trying to be pants are just really awkward. I walked into class, literally dripping water everywhere, lookin'a'like'a wet rat, and not the cute kind... Like a literal... wet rat. And everyone in the whole class looked at me and stopped talking. Then they all started snickering to themselves. My professor said something like, "Oh my!" (although I'm sure that whatever it is that she said had less of a Chelsea-ism than that.) What to do? I don't remember what I did. I just remember those 5 minutes, and feeling like I was in kindergarten, but kind of appreciating the fact that I was experiencing one of those moments finally.

I should take a break from this blog. Or actually start posting real things and stop being a wuss. I feel like I'm a grandparent trying to pass down stories.

In Love with the Memories I Make

I really enjoy reading into dreams. Call it superstitious. Call it what you will. I feel like even if it doesn't scientifically mean anything (which I think it really probably does anyway), you can still learn from your dreams. Much like a fortune cookie or your horoscope. For example, the horoscope for Aries today is "You could be in the mood to break free from a situation which restricts you. Don't make a snap decision which you might regret."

Ok. I don't necessarily feel like that was for me specifically. However, I view it as a proverb for the day. I'll try not to make hasty decisions- that's never a bad idea. Ok cool.

Anyway, I had a dream about being a surrogate mother for my sister. It was so cool. I was pregnant for about ten minutes in my dream (which was somehow enough time to make the CUTEST baby ever). I was showing him off. He was beautiful..... I don't know what my infatuation with surrogate mothers' is, but I should probably look into that as well.

The entire time I lived in Baton Rouge, I had concentration camp dreams. They were horrible. I always had Jews in my house and was trying to hide them- doing whatever I had to to keep them safe. I remember at a certain point, I was slamming this informant into a table, trying to make her pass out so we could leave. I didn't want to kill her. I just wanted her to pass out, but she never would, she just got weaker and weaker. She would swing to hit me and she never could- I was only hitting her. But she would never pass out. It was a horrible feeling. I remember starting to think "At what time does what I'm doing begin to be a greater degree of wrong than the degree of right that I am doing? Is this worth it?" I just wanted to stop. I also had dreams about people being tortured and I couldn't do anything. It was like I was literally a fly on the wall- I was above everyone else, seemingly in a high corner of the room, just watching, unable to move. I saw the most horrible things- things I didn't even realize could happen until after I woke up. It was all very scientifically accurate. It was too smart. It scared me, it disgusted me. I now look back and realize that as soon as me and my past boyfriend broke up, I stopped having those dreams. I haven't had one since. In fact, I had very positive dreams after that. One in particular that was the coolest dream I've ever had- I know it meant something.

Anyway, this past week, I had a dream about a friend cutting my hair also. Everything that I find on that says it means a fear of losing a reputation or freedom or something of that nature. Which I could see. But I've never had this kind of dream before and, considering that I HAD short hair before, I think it means something different for me. Here is my idea on the matter. Before I cut my hair, I had never realized how much I associated having my long hair with me being a girl. When I was little, I always wanted REALLY long hair that I could braid and do fun things with. But I was the black sheep of the family. My sisters had long thick brown hair and were medium skinned. I was bald until I was three, had thin, white blonde hair and was fair skinned. My hair never got past shoulder-length until I was about twelve. But then, when I was 19 or so, I decided I wanted to do something different and I didn't care what. So I let a friend, Brett Roberts, chop my hair off however he wanted. It turned out SO short, which made me really sad as soon as it was done. But I told him I would love it the next day.... And I did! I LOVED having short hair; I felt like it fit my personality well..... This feels like the gayest post ever. Haha But then, I started getting this lesbian complex. I have a lot of guy friends that have always made jokes about me being a lesbian because I rarely like guys as more than friends and have always been a tomboy. And I never cared at all, because... I know I'm not a lesbian. Haha But all of a sudden, no guy ever looked at me anymore. I never got the "second glance" from anyone EXCEPT for girls. :( Ughhh. That was the only thing I hated about short hair- while I felt extremely comfortable and like myself, I felt as if the only people that liked seeing me at my most comfortable state were people that I didn't care to see me that way. It became frustrating. So ALL THAT TO SAY, I think it was a pretty cool dream that my friend was cutting my hair. Because having short hair is somewhat vulnerable for me now. When you have long hair, you can hide behind it, which can be fun. But short hair, you can't do that with. To have a friend cut your hair short means that I feel comfortable with them seeing me for me, and that they are as well - that they WANTED to. Even if it was just a dream, it was still a cool feeling. I remember feeling proud of ourselves, rebellious and child-like almost. It was sweet.

Sometimes, I wish dreams could last a lot longer than they do. I started writing a song one time about dreams. "I wonder each time when I wake why I'm in love with the memories I make." I feel that if you dream about someone, you WANTED them in your life more than they already were. It's a beautiful life we can create in a dream - literally, everything can be exactly the way you would have it. You're the only one that can see it, and you could've made it however you wanted. But it was what it was. The perfect life sometimes isn't so far from what it is now.

The Kills

Tighten Up - The Black Keys

Star Alfur - Sigur Ros

Wake Up - Arcade Fire

15 Step - Radiohead

Swing Your Heartache - Young Galaxy

Need I say anything?

Mr. Bojangles - Dance

I have a crush on the one on Willy Wonka's right. No, his left in the picture. Like if you WERE Willy Wonka. Gah! Nevermind.

- I dance like a white person for the most part when I try to dance like a black boy. That upsets me.

- I'm really good at dancing like my mom. It's spot-on. In fact, I broke into a full fledged mom dance party last night with a buddy at the Boardwalk. It was beautiful.

- I'm also not bad at dancing like a prostitute... I'm okay with that.

Here are your "Random Pics for the Day"

Sometimes I smile like this when I'm at my coolest.

And on a real, non-ancy note, I miss you already. Is odd.

D3 and The Wells

So the 16th floor of the Regions building is being renovated. And my office is nearest the cOnStRuCtIoN zOnE!!! So the past week, I've been used to hearing very annoying drills and tables smashing into walls.... walls being knocked down.... etc. Today, I got to hear what sounded like a man drowning in vomit for about five minutes. I felt bad for him.... but was laughing quietly to myself, of course. Everyone on my side of the building left their office because it was so loud and disgusting. I didn't mind them leaving; I stayed- I didn't want him to see me if I left, and I definitely didn't want to walk in on him puking all over the fresh carpet they put in. :( Poor wittle guy. So I just waited in my office. Until I started thinking about the poor man, by himself, at the end of the hall, no trash can, just puking everywhere. I thought about him walking zombie-like down the hall for someone to help him.... And my office would be the first thing he came to. I thought about hiding behind my desk. It felt like the apocalypse.

GREAT WEEKEND playing with my boys. :) Really, really wonderful.

I thought of something over the past couple of days. Why is it that some little kids just want to fit in, and other little kids just want to be different? Kind of odd how it works, is it not?

YESSSSS!!!!! How frightening.

Also, I have a Vitamin D3 deficiency, which explains my hair falling out, me being tired all the time, me not really feeling like myself (it makes you irritable and have mood swings), etc. So, all is well and all I have to do is take a couple of D3 vitamins a day. So glad.

The Bucket List Begins

Oooooo....

So last week, I thought about doing a project where I look at pictures from every state and try to pick out where I would ideally live. Rather, what general region I would like to live in, based on the nature in the area mainly. *Tree hugger But there are so many states- I get overwhelmed. And then I looked up pictures of Louisiana, and the pictures that I found look nothing like what most of Louisiana actually looks like. It made people that live in Louisiana look like we lived in Cypress trees with pelicans and alligators as our only wildlife. I got discouraged and gave up, though I still want to pick the project back up at some point.

Had to pick out my school and work schedule today. It's this whole weight and balances thing with sanity on one side and money on the other. Trying to pretend like I'm an adult is quite stressful.

I should start tabulating my bucket list. It's been in my head since I was little. My first entry goes as follows:

- Play an instrument until my fingers bleed. (Anything my dad did when he was my age automatically got put in the BAD ARSS part of the Bucket List. I don't necessarily want to do this anymore now, but it's worth putting on here to pay homage to my childhood dreamssssssss. Such a sweet little child, I was.... ... Who am I kidding? I really wouldn't mind bleeding all over my piano if I got the opportunity now anyway, so I can't act as if I've grown up too much. I'd rig some awesome looking band-aid knuckle wrap and feel like I really accomplished something. I'd rig the shit out of it.

Little Things

Today, I was driving to work and noticed that something was different about the drive...

Over the past month or so, I have seen a little Asian woman taking her morning walk as I drive to work. It doesn't sound that eventful or out of the ordinary. Other than that she rests her wrists on her hips as she walks; and as she takes each step, she raises the opposite wrist and slams it down on her hip.... Very odd exercise routine. I would think maybe, say, like wrist weights or something before the hip/wrist collision idea. Buuuuut, that's cool! Whatever makes her happy.

Anyway, seeing her each morning started off with a hasty thought like "Ha! Look at that little lady. Even the way she walks is foreign!" Or something equally as judgmental and horribly racist. (Oh, come on. You know you think stuff like that for just a split second). But then, she started becoming endearing. She was everything that I could want out of "Awkward Top o' the Morning to Ya"'s. I started looking for her jerky movements each morning. She was always there - it became familiar.

But today, she wasn't there at all. I caught myself looking for her, looking down the streets where I usually see her. Nowhere to be found. Suddenly, the morning felt... off. I didn't realize how attached I'd gotten to her off-beat gait and odd-fitting striped tanks. It's an odd thing - what becomes special to us. The little things are often more important than the big things. Or at least I feel they are appreciated more. And very few people understand that. I can tell my mother about how one of my friends brought me three homemade chocolate chip cookies, and to my mom, it would be just that - "Oh cool. That was sweet. Why did you feel the need to tell me that?" But chocolate chip cookies (particularly homemade) are my absolute weakness. I would do most anything for some CC cookies. And I hate going to the trouble of making cookies and HAVING TO WAIT ON THEM!!! So, put those two together, and you've pretty much won a piece of my heart over. My mom wouldn't get that. In fact, no one really would except for me and maybe the person that gave them to me. Obviously this example is silly and doesn't really apply. But all that to say, that I am so thankful for the little things in life as well as the little things in other people. They make my friends different people. I know them on a different level. The ins and outs of us are so fascinating. I want to know what makes them tick. I want to give and take. I want to laugh and hold you. I want to be lying on my back in the park. I want to be on top of a building in the city. I want to be in a hoop dress three hundred years ago. ....NO, I want to be here right now. It's as close to anything wonderful as I could ask for. I just have to remind myself to appreciate the little things that are a part of my life right now. Imagination is a wonderful thing, but it tends to make one less in the here-and-now than they should be. Focus. There are so many little things in my life to be enjoyed. And I really, really do.

Making Up Sicknesses

So I have an appointment tomorrow to figure out if I have a thyroid disorder or if it's merely hypochondria. Bless it. I'm sure I'm fine. I always try to convince myself there's something wrong with me- "I think I'm anemic!," "I have heart palpitations," "I'm diabetic," etc.... I've always been just fine, other than low blood pressure and CONSTANT DEHYDRATION, cuz I'm addicted to Diet Coke and coffee. Luckily, I hate going to the doctor, so I usually disregard my diagnosis of the minute before I invest money in it (which is probably a good idea, since it's utter bull shniz, for the most part). I really just like to pretend like I know more than I do about the human body. But I got scared this week. Legitimately, I think? I realized that

(a) I lost 12 pounds in a month or so without trying

(2) My hair is half the thickness it used to be (thanks to the multiple wads of hair I've been pulling out of my head in the shower)

(d) It's probably not normal to take up to four naps in a single day

(8) It's not normal to still have bruises from mid-July that haven't healed.

It's probably just I need to eat better or drink more water. But I just want to hear ze doc say that. My sister had all the same symptoms and she has hypothyroidism, as does my grandmother, so I'll go give some blood again. :/ Bluh.

Link - Don't read too much into it. I don't play by these rules necessarily. I just feel bad for you losing so much. ;)

• "Intuition" - Feist, you know me too well
• "Baby's Arms" - Kurt Vile, you make me so sad

Bad Day :: Good Day

I want yo face. And yo guitars. And yo clothes. Can we trade bodies, jobs and living arrangements and keep our own friends, families and lives? Ok, I'm in.

Today has been a wonderful day so far. What started out as me moping and comforting myself with the most depressing music I could think of turned into a great day. I got to work feeling sad and out of sorts, so of course Copeland's You Are My Sunshine album gets put on repeat in my iTunes. I start writing. Not on here. In Microsoft Word. I write two full pages of thoughts, frustrating thoughts. I am quite incapable of mentally coping with stress unless I write down my thoughts on the source or reason for the stress first - just a small book. No big deal. I've always done this - before I can think clearly about something, I have to write down my thought processes. Write. Read. Reread. Rewrite. I'm like my own English professor. But somehow, it always helps and I have a clear head afterwards. It's some form of therapy- embarrassing to admit, but therapy in its best form, my favorite at least. So after writing two full pages of very specific thoughts, I wrap up my lack of work that I have to complete at my job and go to lunch. I'd been craving Mexican food all morning, so I walked to Nicky's (which turned out to be a much more annoying walk than I thought). Systemout.println("Heels, " + "creepy people, " + ".... I guess that's really it.") Finished Nicky's in record time - 15 minutes from walk-in to walk-out. Somehow managed to get a chip in my lung in those 15 minutes... I don't know how... And read Catcher in the Rye with my leftover time. I'm not sure if that book is supposed to be funny or not but..... I'll leave it at that. Anyway, for no apparent reason, somehow today has turned up wonderful. What started out as a very sad, gloomy day turned into me looking forward to something- I don't know what. But I have a feeling the world isn't a bad place. I have a feeling that things always look up after all. :) Even if it doesn't end up being the way you thought it would. This is what me preaching to myself sounds like. But I really do believe it, I do.

Also, I would like to say, that the chip in the lung incident was not that bad. I am somewhat of a compulsive liar. I mean, I did choke on the chip. However, on Facebook, I made it sound as if it was an event. It wasn't. One quick, wide eyed, frantic cough. That's all... I'd like to think that instead of me being a compulsive liar, I just recognize an opportunity to make a story better. I love human's laughter, what can I say?! It's all for the greater good, really - this embellishing stories business.... Yeah.

My stomach just made a weird sound though. Maybe I'll make up some story about how I birthed a very small buck tooth alien child this morning that looked JUST LIKE ME!!! Except he had ankle spurs and an adorably sheepish, suspicious smile.... Ok, I won't. But if I did make up that story, this is what he would look like.

Don't worry about him only having one foot. Gah! So judgmental.

...I really think I have something wrong with me sometimes.

The Truth about Good Girls

From back in the day when I used to have Photoshop. I miss that more than I realized.

Long Nails

You know those weird quirks everybody has? The things they hate with a passion for no apparent reason, the things they love the smell of (gasoline and sharpies for me) or are just scared of and don't know why? Well, IIIIIII absolutely HATE people with long nail beds. It scares me so badly. No idea why. LOOK HOW FRICKING SCARY THIS IS!!!!

Oh my Lord! It makes me anxious and feel like I'm about to have a panic attack. And this isn't even half as bad as one's I've seen before either! Honestly Google, Flickr and Bing don't really have that many pictures that have been tagged as "Long nail beds" or "Black People Long Nails" or "African Hands".... Don't judge! It started making me feel racist anyway - googling all of the pictures (because it's usually only black people that have long nail beds for some reason- it really does look so scary). :/ So then I decided to google "Pretty hands" and look what a peach of a gem I found!

So delicate, really.

Also, today I saw a plastic bag blowing in the wind, and I had an epiphany that I had just relived a moment in the life of Katy Perry. Imagine. She's like, "Oh, look at that plastic bag! Wait, sometimes I feel like that bag. :(" And THUS AN INSPIRATIONAL KATY PERRY POP SONG WAS BORN. I still don't really know if I've ever felt like a plastic bag. I can't really say that I even know how that would feel..... But still, the moment today was magical...... ;)

And lastly, I just spilled coffee all over my paynts. It feels warm.

Randoms

I wrote something in a previous blog about how no one ever writes anything about how complicated we can make things regarding love and like and life- habits, predispositions, etCETRA. Obviously, Aqualung had never clicked with me on that level until now. What a beautiful human, with such a sad, hopeful soul. "If love is not the answer, then maybe I misunderstood the question." - Black Hole by Aqualung

So, after the awkwardness that is a theater-sized screening of Horrible Bosses with one's precious little mother, I decided something- I really, really like Kevin Spacey. I didn't really care for the movie. But one part in the movie that he acted, hit me as one of the funniest things I've ever seen. In that part, I was laughing so hard and was almost completely on top of my mom (which, oddly enough, didn't feel as obnoxious at the time as it sounds now)... until I noticed she was completely ignoring me and looking straight ahead at the screen and I was still laughing to myself... Just holding her. Haha Sweet victory!!! I embarrassed her!

I used to purposely trip and fall down, knock stuff over - just make a scene - in whatever public place she would take me while I was growing up to embarrass her (and who am I kidding- it's still somewhat of a goal whether I realize it or not). I would also talk extremely loud on awkward aisles- making up embarrassing lies about her, acting like they were something of a hot topic. I would wait until she was an aisle or two over from me and then say a little too loud things like, "Hey mom! Yeah, they DO have extra strength Depends. Hey, mom! No, they're over here." The look on her face was always worth it.

Awww. That does kinda make me feel bad.

Maxwell

It's my used-to-be favorite nephew, Maxwell. I'm not saying that he isn't my favorite nephew now, I'm just saying that he definitely used to be and now I'm just not supposed to say if he is or not.... My other nephew, Cayden (aka "Scamper") is pretty cool too.

But me and Max, we're buddies. :)

Elephant Man Hide and Seek

I can see the knots in my back. :/ Youch.

Last night, me and some budddddds had a pillow fight at A.C. Steere. I realized, last night, that I don't think I've ever actually had a pillow fight before. Me and my sisters would try, but we would get too violent, so it became off limits. So instead of getting in actual pillow fights, I made up a game that we called Elephant Man Hide and Seek. I'm not exactly sure why I called it that, but I thought it was awesome, as did my sister, Brooke, I think. Or at least she always would play it with me when I asked her to. It required one of us (whoever's turn it was to be the Elephant Man) putting our head inside a pillow case with the pillow inside it (to where the pillow was in front of our eyes so we couldn't see anything) and playing tag in a room full of furniture. It was a wonderful game. We would play in our room where we knew where all of the furniture was so we wouldn't actually run into anything. However, if the Elephant Man ran so fast that they fell and hit their head, say, on the corner of a dresser.... THERE'S A PILLOW IN FRONT OF THEIR FACE FOR CUSHION!!! AND it was kinda funny to watch your sister slam into a wall full force, while imagining her as the Elephant Man. Obviously, it was the perfect game. Anywho, I was going to try and find a picture of someone's head in a pillow the correct way, in case anyone wanted to play this wonderful peach of a game; but instead, all I found was a picture of a man that married his pillow, which I find to be equally as interesting.