Christmas Wishes

I'd like a Christmas dress.  Yes, I would.  And some cute little heels as well.  It's just for one day, GOSH!  Then, I can go back to frumpy Christmas sweaters with bubbly painted reindeer on them.

I'd also like to enjoy a real live Christmas tree.  One that smells and will burst into flames when we decide we're done with it.  I've really never had a real Christmas tree.  Or a fire in the fireplace more than once a year, for that matter.  I'd like it.

I'm so glad that I have a brother to make me realize what little boys are like.  What a blessing he is in my life.  

I'm good.  I'm fine.

Dreams.

This is an old.... something... I wrote a long time ago.  I found it today and decided to post it.  It's funny how the objects of your dreams change over time.  But it's always the same feeling, no matter who the object is.

Dreams.
Something that you imagine.
Something that only you see.
It’s safe.
But in the same way, no one can rescue you.
You are alone to whatever world your mind wants to create for you.
It is solely you and whomever you imagine.
Whomever your mind wants to bring into its safe place.
If you dream of someone, were you thinking of them before?
Most likely.
What about the people that you haven’t met before in your dreams?
The “strangers” that you have in your mind that you are somehow comfortable with.
As if they’ve always been there.
Your mind creates these people.
These things.
Sometimes beautiful things, sometimes horrible.
But what about the guardians of those dreams?
The ones that are always there.
The ones that you always know will be in that safe place.
Your sister, your uncle, your friend, your lover.
… Your lover.
Your first love.
My.
First.
Love.
He won’t leave me alone and I hate it.
That he always is there.
And every day I remember him, because I just saw him- last night. In my dream.
But I greet him every time.
I love seeing him in the dream.
It’s always like it was.
We lay on a couch with a blanket.
He says the same things I grew to love.
We are friends.
And my heart is light.
And every morning, I wake up so happy…
The drop back to reality is sudden.
Not overcoming.
But sudden.
Back to normality.
Back to this.
This thing…
I don’t know which feeling is more extreme- the happiness, enthrallment, love. Or suddenly this bored feeling, almost as if there’s nothing to look forward to, to be completely honest.
But I miss him.
I can only hold him in one way.  He only can be a part of my life in my own mind.
Call me insane. Tell me I “lost my marbles.”
I fall in love with the memories I create.
And it’s all I have.
And it feels like a tragedy.

Sigh

It seems that I have a habit of causing heartbreak wherever I go.  It's a history of breaking my own heart over the same mistake (falling for people that don't like me near as much as I like them), and breaking good people's hearts that like me a lot and treat me wonderfully.  I don't know why this is.  I can't explain it.  I don't like it.  I don't know how to change it.  I always think maybe "this time" is different.  And it always turns out the same.  I'd like to think one day it will be just right.  I believe in "it" enough to say that.  But all I've ever known has let me down.  Sometimes, even myself.

I just want to be by myself for a little while.

I promise you couldn't hate me as much as I hate myself right now.

Believe me, I'd like to be a normal person too.

The Raincoat

One of the coolest things I ever remember my mom doing is letting me wear a raincoat when it wasn't raining outside.  I was probably five or six (it was when we lived in St. Louis).  I was looking through the dark, back half of my older sister's closet-- the portion of the closet that held the soon-to-be-hand-me-downs.  I found a pastel purple raincoat, all shiny and squeaky-sounding with a detachable hood. I got so excited about wearing it because it appeared to be just my size and it looked almost brand new, like some gift straight from the gods.  (When you have as many older siblings as I have, mint condition hand-me-downs are an absolute rarity).  Anyway, I remember running downstairs to find mom and showing her what I found, begging her to let me wear it that day.  She let me try it on--JUST MY SIZE!!! I KNEW IT WOULD BE!!!! AHHHH!  I loved it.  I asked her if I could wear it, to which she responded, "But it's not raining today!...  Next time it rains, you can wear it.  How about that?"  I was devastated.  All the plans.  Thwarted.  Instead of being enveloped in a shiny, scientific, purple miracle coat, running through a field of flowers, flying kites and having butterflies land on my nose, I would have to wait till some other day--a rainy, groggy one that would arrive some time in the future.  Supposedly.  (It almost never rains when you want it to...)  I started to cry a little bit.  I had just gotten so excited about it too quickly.  My mom sort of snickered at me, paused and said, "Baby, I mean you can wear it today... If you really want.  If it means that much to you."

I wore the coat that day and it was so sunny.  I was probably shriveling ants all over the world with the reflection, but I remember it being the best day ever.  I wonder if my mom knows what a big deal that was.  She had retracted her desire to have me look respectable, like all the other kids sucking on their fingers and picking their nose.  I just got to be me for a day, wearing my little rain coat....  I wish I still had that little raincoat....

If I ever have kids, I want to let them pick out their own clothes a large part of the time.  Not always.  But whenever they want to, I want to let them be exactly who they want to be.  Not enough people in this world were raised that way.  The amount of freedoms you give to a person who is in the business of discovering themselves can never be redone.

And now to put the mushiness to rest, here's a video of a giant pigeon.

Sense of Smell and Anything Unordinary

Two completely unrelated things.

1.  My sense of smell is far too strong for my own good.  I attribute that to the deviated septum, which apparently is a one-way signal straight to my abnormally memory-infused gray matter.  Such a burden.  I shook someone's hand tonight and happened to scratch my face for some reason and smelled the person...  Weeyurd.  I couldn't decide whether to wash my hands five times to ensure the smell was gone or to just leave it be.  I'm still deciding apparently.  I remember certain people in my past having a particular smell, but I can never quite remember what it was.  I wonder if I would recognize it and if all the emotions would come back with the smell. Smell is such a strong sense.  It's a pity my nose is so Jewishly broken.  Not that Jews have big noses...

2.  I've been thinking about something lately.  I thrive on looking forward to things, surprises, random happenings.  Anything unordinary.  Which drives me to get tattoos on Valentine's Day, get my nose pierced on a whim, and chop my hair off whenever I get too bored.  I've always known this fact, but just gone along with it.  But I've been thinking today about my past.  The happiest I've admittedly been (that I remember) was when I was in a relationship.  That's not to say that I don't like being by myself.  For example, I ate Waffle House by myself just now and loved it (minus the onions that played hide and seek with me in my hashbrowns...  I finally gave up).  The first time I was happy, I was in a long-distance relationship.  The human aside, I was going out of town every other weekend, experiencing "new" things nonstop.  The second time I was happy, I had to keep quiet about everything.  It was like some secret game I was playing.  I haven't had a "normal" relationship in over five years.  I haven't even really liked a normal human being that liked me back in a normal, mature way in over five years.  And it makes me wonder how strong my drive actually is for something unordinary.  I feel like I should settle down with some fat guy who works in a cubicle and plays golf for fun just to tame me...  I think I would commit suicide.  It's not that I'm unhappy now.  Everything about my life is crazy and free to do whatever I want.  I have no ties.  There are things to look forward to.  I would think that it is exactly what I want.  But there are no goals.  I'm already tired of the nose ring.  I'm already tired of my short hair.  I wish I'd buzzed it.  I wish I'd kept it long.  I wish I was a black girl with an afro for a day.  The thing is, I can only create so many "unordinary" things for myself to experience.  Eventually, I'm going to be old and there won't be much to look forward to.  At this point, I feel that looking forward to things is the only reason that I keep going.  Whenever I get down, I comfort myself with the fact that things "won't always be the way they are now" or that "you don't know what will happen next; maybe it will be what you've been waiting on!"  The thing is, I'm starting to see that this could be a problem.  Because I will eventually get tired of any human.  And I'm starting to wonder why anyone hangs out with me in the first place; I know myself all too well--nothing surprises me much about even myself any more.  And all outside situations are circumstantial. The bottom line is, I can only create so many things to look forward to.  Eventually, I ought to realize that I'm setting myself up for disappointment if the things I look forward to don't pan out so well.  In the same way, I'm setting myself for unavoidable disappointment if the things I look forward to do pan out well...  Because I can only look forward to things for so long.  Eventually, I'll get bored with the idea of always looking forward and not enjoying things while I'm in them.  I dwell too much in the past and in the future.  The present almost always looks boring.  And if not now, wait...  It will soon.  I'm not trying to be depressing.  Just noticing that I have some major flaws to work through.  Does any of this make sense, or am I just thinking way too hard about myself?  Am I being selfish to even think this much about this issue?

Dude.  I need a good time.  Real soon.  A chill pill.  A relaxation brownie.  A turkey.  A honeyed ham.  A fresh bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios with bananas.  Full circle.  Get behind me, Satan.

New Landscapes

I feel at peace now.  

I feel fairly happy.

I feel like myself.

I never know if that means I'm at the right place at the right time or if that means I'm supposed to start over, now that I'm stable enough to move, etc. 

Where would I move?  What do I value after all?

I'm getting school out of the way so that I'm not tied down to any one place.  But come May, my options are open.  I know I don't want to stay any one place too long.  Maybe I'll save up money and fly North for a week or two, before I decide.  Just to see.  Next summer.  

I have no idea where I'll end up or what I will be doing, but I'm excited to find out, and content to be here in Shreveport for a little while until then.

You know.  I'd like to know what I'll think when I look back two years from now on this time.  If I'll say I should've done everything within my power to be all right and forget.  Or if I'll applaud myself for waiting on something.  I don't know what I'm waiting on.  I can't convince myself that it will all be better in two years.  I mean, it will be better.  But I think a piece is genuinely missing.  It feels odd to just subconsciously hand out something that I hold so dear to me.  Do I think it's something to be chased--what left me? Do I think it's better in the long run?  I can mostly honestly say, "No."  Does that make it any easier?  Absolutely not.  I don't want to forget about it.  I don't wish it hadn't happened.  I don't know what would make it better.  I just don't know.

Sank You, Sank You

I honestly kind of dreaded posting on here just now.  For some reason, I'm sort of ashamed.  Whether that be shame at my embarrassment for not posting in two months (sorry :/) or because I don't really have anything worthwhile to say or for some unspoken reason (which is the reason I'm leaning more towards honestly), I'm not sure... I don't want to talk about it.

I signed on just now with this sense of retreat, this shame, like I was returning to some familiar vice due to the horizon not turning out quite as intriguing as I thought it looked. However, I saw that I had nine views today.  Some of you are in Russia and could be using a translator right now to read this post because it looks so interesting....  Actually, you probably know more languages than me and can speak better English than I can.  (Sorry, little Russian friend, whoever you are! :) )  But just knowing that there are still people checking up on me--though I've been largely mute over the last two months--was encouraging for some odd reason.  So thank you, so much.  You made me feel like the retreat was welcome and that my absence was missed.  You all are awesome, whoever you are. :)

Okay, enough gushy stuff.  Honestly.

There is a point where one starts looking ridiculous, by the way. I don't know which braid was the one that just put it over the top, but uh.

The Intermission

What to say......

Feelings aren't stupid. But they are stupid.

I want to write something that says I don't care. That I'm happy. That I don't get hurt. I wish I were that person.

I can't fake certain things. I can't fake them enough to believe them. I want to retreat. I want to hide. I want to run back to things. I want to move. I want to cling. I want to quit. I want to start fresh. I want to start writing. I want to stop writing.

I want something.

I just want everyone to be happy. They have their gangs that they cling to. The frickin crew. I was never a part. I was never invited. And that's okay, but I can't say it hasn't always bothered me. I try so hard, but I'm just different. I don't have a problem being different. But sometimes, I do feel very, very alone. The thing is, I just want a close friend. I want a best friend. I feel like everyone has left me, and in the process, I'm not really sure where I stand. What I stand for. Who I am. I believe so much in friendship and love and beauty and fun. I just want something that I don't have. I have a lot. I have more than I realize, and I realize this. I just feel alone. And I see no way of changing that.

Rarely, do I need anyone. But that open knowledge makes me feel very alone when I do need someone and no one is there. I seem to have run everyone off; I seem to have tons of acquaintances and hardly anyone that really is that close to me.

I don't know what I am doing or what I want to do.

It Always Happens

I am a closed book when it comes to telling other people's business. I didn't realize I'm as good as I am, but I guess I've been proven to be the frickin best. I have so many ridiculous amount of secrets from many of my friends that I wouldn't dare even think about telling. I mean good secrets, some of them. The way I view it is that if they trusted me enough as a friend to tell me something that close to them, I'm gonna hold that to the grave. (Unless, of course, it could be hurting someone else, etc.--there are exceptions, but I would tell the person before I blab.)

Anyway, I cannot tell you how many times I have had people spread stupid half-truths about me. They're funny, silly stories from my past with different friends--relationships they don't understand at all. But yet, they go tell people all these horrible sounding things about me. That is the one thing I cannot stand in a relationship of any kind. Trust is HYURGE to me. I don't want to have enemies for friends. Aren't we supposed to care for each other and keep each other's best interests in mind? I understand that I am more comfortable writing about serious things than I am talking about them, so I've been trying to give humankind the benefit of the doubt in these types of situations.

I really think I'm an awesome friend. I'm sorry if that's wrong. I treat others how I would like to be treated. Only my best friends treat me that way in return. And that's why they're my best friends. That's what separates acquaintances, friends and best friends--the trust level, for me. The closeness.

I would never try to start something with someone by telling something they told in private. My mind doesn't work that way at all. I don't understand it.

I don't know if I should say something and possibly lose a friend over it or just stop telling stories all together.

I don't think I'm that bad of a person. I think gossiping with intent to cause friction is worse than being free-spirited and goofy.

I'm trying to see it from your side of the picture too, but this isn't the first time this has happened. I'll still count you as a friend, but I'm sick and tired of coaxing myself to be close to you and give you another chance. Because I really do like you and I enjoy hanging out with you. But I just feel like I'm on eggshells with you.

Right when I feel like I'm starting to like where I am, I start to feel like everyone's against me.

I like hanging out. But I'll never tell you anything again. :( I feel like I lost a friend out of it either way.

I just trust people too much, and I have a big mouth. But only about myself. And only about things I think are funny. For instance, I'll never tell anyone that you hurt me when you do stuff like this. I'll just convince myself it's not a big deal. And eventually, I'll probably believe it. I'll learn to be more standoffish. That's not always unhealthy, I guess. It just sucks because I like having close friends.

90's Brit Panty Party

I want to live in Great Britain for a while in a couple of years. I wouldn't look like a tourist. I'd get a job, learn French, work on being able to hold onto my American accent and still conform to a British accent. (I pick up accents extremely quickly. I just like listening to accents and I start subconsciously imitating the sounds I hear. When I go to Tulsa or St. Louis, I come back talking like I'm from there. It's odd. Oh, and when I lived in Baton Rouge, I lost my southern accent. Which is odd since Baton Rouge is south of Shreveport. I noticed that I started totally messing up words that were easy to say--words like "forward" or "over," for no apparent reason. I think it was because my accent was changing and I only noticed how I was changing when I said words that I normally rarely said. I would only speak with a southern accent when I called my family on the phone; then all of my Baton Rouge friends would make fun of how southern I spoke. They all have no accent at all, which is odd.)

I'm also making a girls' 90's/early 2000's playlist complete with Will Smith, Vanilla Ice, Britney Spears, Tony Vincent (childhood swoon), "Bruises" by Chairlift (semi-current swoon), etc. It's probably the girliest guilty pleasure thing I do--the new house must be christened. Dance panty party. Probably with wine in hand. Yes, please.

Proofreading Rant

Let me just say that the point of proofreading other people's essays is to give specific examples of the errors in the essay. Saying "I noticed unnecessary commas" is not helpful. It makes you look like you skimmed the essay and are providing a blanket reply; it makes you appear lazy instead of helpful. Ctrl+C. Ctrl+V. That's all it takes to give specific examples. Not hard. Please! Tell me what I did wrong. I want to know.

Reviewer: "I think you have great overall ideas about Banksy's Boston artwork. They are cohesive and supported with strong evidence from the painting itself and other outside sources. However, is it from one of the two museums that Dr. McCray required us to choose art from (the Smithsonian and the Museum of Modern Art)? If you did, I think you should probably site it in your paper and works cited page."

Secondly, I would like to say that it is impossible for one of Banksy's pieces of street art to be located in a museum. (dumba$$) If you'd actually read any of the essay or possibly used 90% of your brain, you would have noticed that, dear. Also, a link to the piece of art was in the works cited page. Your question was answered twice before you even asked it.

My passive aggressive reply: "As it is street art, it is not in either of the two museums that Dr. McCray asked us to choose from. But I did ask his permission to do this art piece.

I'll read over the essay again and see if I can find any of the run-ons and unnecessary commas you are referencing. Thank you for your comment!"

Raer.

I appreciate mean people more than I do tattle tales and youngest children style personalities, especially in writing. Just shoot me straight. "I'm not sure that that piece is in a museum."

Stupid human.

WHEW!!!!!

I'm just a peach today. You'd love it. ;)

Work Alter Ego

There are soooo many things that go into moving into a new house, being the prime contact for your landlord, getting utilities turned on, organizing move-in dates with your roommates, providing copies of leases and necessary information, going to school and working two jobs over 60 hours a week. So. Many. Things.

I thrive off of this stuff--manageable stress (but getting kinda close to unmanageable).

Valentine's and Roo 2012

Welcome to the most depressing day of the year! Not really. But I'm finding less and less people to throw a "Hurrah for Being Single" party with, for sure. I took my friend, Toups, out for sushi last night because he'd never had sushi and wanted to try it before he went on his real Valentine's date in a couple days. I decided I wanted to dress up and at least pretend like it was a Valentine's date, because I don't think I've ever had a real Valentine. I've either never been with someone in February or they lived out of town. Anyway, we got all dressed up and... I'm the best/worst Valentine's date ever. I bought dinner. Then we went to the Boot and I beat him at pool and fooseball. (Sorry if you're reading this, Poopsy). I'm like the butch date in a dress. BUT he surprised me with flowers and opened my door for me (slightly jokingly, but he still did it), which seriously made my night. I finally have some flowers to put in my bud vase thang! I've had it since I worked at Fairway and it always had fake flowers. I've always kinda wanted to keep fresh flowers around the house, and me moving this weekend might be a perfect time to start that. I wouldn't mind waking up to this every day.

Oh, and you can't really see the yellow lantern thing that the flowers are sitting on, but it was a $14.99 Goodwill find that is AWESOME. I'm in love already.

This is my favorite place to take pictures, but it's SOOOO hard trying to take them by yourself. Anyone wanna model for me/uh, let me model too?

Well, it's done. The Bonnaroo Lineup is out. Let me just say that there's only one headliner I would care about... and I called it. Radiohead. Among the others, though, are Bon Iver, The Beach Boys (also called it--they wrote a song with effing Charles Manson.... Seriously, how could I miss this?!), The Avett Brothers, The Shins, Foster the People, Skrillex, Feist, Ludacris, St. Vincent, The Civil Wars, Fitz & the Tantrums, Dawes, Kurt Vile & the Violators, Delta Spirit... And those are just the ones I've heard of and know I like.... Last year, I found SOOOOO much new music I fell in love with. Moral/financial dilemma going on right now. Can it be done?

Top 5 Guhs

And here are my “Top 5 Prettiest Girls in the World/Best Style” that I get way too excited about when I see in a magazine (which probably means I have a slight crush on them).

#1 is definitely Ms. Bambi Lynn-Northwood.

Ms. Alexa Chung. Awesome style, but she kind of annoys me. When I feel British, I dress like her. She wears the things closest to what has always been my style, but she's not very ballsy.

Ms. Erin Wasson. This girl, on the other hand.... The bad ass of all bad asses. Definitely best body out of all of these. When I feel really Americana American, I dress like her.

Ms. Freja Beha Erichsen. She's a lesbian, but I still adore her. I'm just more stand-offish with her because of it. You know how we have to be. I mean, I don't actually want her to ask me out.

Ms. Agnyss Deyn. The most adorable Doc Martin, color wheel of a human. I adore you.

Ok, enough weirdness. I may or may not have left my heater on way too much this past month. I’m just so cold all of the time. Whether it was $121.72 worth of cold, I’m not sure.

So.... I played the new song last night. It was like therapy in some way. I was sitting in a circle with my friends, and everyone was talking and hanging out. I asked for my friend’s guitar and then I just started playing the song, quietly, more to myself than anything. I didn’t expect to finish out the song. But I kept singing it. They stopped talking. I just played it and felt every note, every lyric. It felt like a pouring out of souls, a vulnerable admission, a complete honesty, a "not trying to put up a front" for a while. It’s so embarrassing... Leave me alone! Go away! No, please don’t leave. Let’s not talk about anything in specific--let's keep it light-hearted. Just hang out with me. Don’t hug me. Let’s just hang out. I’m not sure if they were even really listening, but it was so therapeutic for me. I decided I liked the song. I had a moment with it. And it was real.

Sooooooo anyway! On another note, I'm taking Toups to try his first bite of sushi tonight!

Oh, yeah!!! We, we so excited.

New House Pics

Well, here's a picture of our NEW HOUSE that we signed a lease on THIS MORNING!!! (One of our roommates had to go to work so he's not in the picture :/). BUT... I'm just so excited.

I've been trying not to get too excited, since the lease wasn't signed yet. I've been pretending like at any moment, I will get a phone call that says he forgot about us and gave it to someone else or that the roof collapsed or the dryer exploded and burned the house down--really anything that would throw us under the bus. But nothing like that happened! We're going to get it now! I'm so excited about moving all of our furniture in and decorating the house and making coffee for us in the mornings, putting pizza in our freezer, getting pissed that I always have to do the dishes for other people, falling down our porch stairs, etc. I'm excited about spending time at my own house! It's a good thing. A wonderful thing.

The Extends

So there’s this potato soup guyssssss. You know, the kind with the bacon, cheese and green onions on top? Lawd have mercy. It’s so good. I’ve eaten it twice. I’ve also thrown up after eating it both times. I’m not sure if I’m allergic to something in it or maybe just… randomly threw up. However, I tried to decide today if it was worth possibly making myself sick just to be able to taste it. I decided it was; therefore, I have now tried it THRICE and am currently waiting patiently to be in the throes of dreadful, nauseous spasms.

Guys, do your frickin’ taxes… Seriously it’s NOT THAT HARD... What horrible timing.

There have been many… nick names… over the years that… I have been..given. (That should obviously be read like Christopher Walken). Among these are the ones my family gave me (and still call me) Chel, Chels, Chelly, Chel Bell, Baby Hands, Little China Doll. … Ok, that last one I just made up. But for the non-family related nicknames, there are a few to be introduced as well. Among these are Chucky, Ally, Ally Cat, Chuck, Poison Ivy, Red, etc. I have a feeling, I’m about to start getting called T-Rex or Velociraptor at my new work. I kid you not. They have taken notice of the fact that I rarely take my hands away from their natural resting spot--supension in front of my chest--under any circumstances. It’s a habit. I hold my own hands a vast majority of the time.

Anyways, here comes the awkward part where I start posting a bunch of different pictures of squirrels I just found. No big deal.

Suddenly I start feeling like all creatures really are very similar. Or maybe I'm just part squirrel. Cuz that kiss looks goooooooood.

Best power animal ever.

In other news, hold on to your turbans, kids. They just made 24K gold nail polish. What is our world coming to? (Not that I wouldn’t try it, but)

Belly Buttons

It’s about time for garage sale, antique and flea market shopping… Reeeeeal(ly) soon. Especially since I'm signing on our HOUSE next week! Ahhhhh. Now is the time for creativity.

Also, there are three different types of belly buttons. The innie (the most common), the outie (the one with the most potential to look weeeeeird), and the flattie (the one everybody forgets about). Flatties are my favorite. Behold. THE BELLY BUTTON DIAGRAM!!!

Um, now that everyone, including myself, is officially grossed out…. :( Here is the perfect belly button—the flattie.

There are really so few people with flatties that it’s almost intimidating when you meet one. "Oh, hi little guy!" They're practically viewed as a god in my eyes as soon as I find out--the person that is, not da button itself. It’s odd.

Oh, this was me waking up this morning.

Oh, and this will be me when I get off work...

Ready to face the world.

I'll Chew You Out! Only on paper though.

I'm not a girl that needs to be told she looks pretty all of the time or that needs to be flattered in many ways. Nothing like it. In fact, it usually makes me feel very uncomfortable. Most of the time, I see it as leaning towards bullshit and I think that's fine. I mean, why else would someone be taking the time and making the effort to go out of their way to talk to me about random things I know they don't want to talk about? If we have nothing to talk about, then let's not talk and save ourselves the trouble of trying to flatter and coax each other into mutual attraction. I see through most of you. It won't work. I'm not into that. Words of affirmation are great when I think that it's genuine. That means so much to me. But if I don't feel it is genuine (if I feel it's something that is being said just for the sake of being said), I view it as a distant, almost perverted, and embarrassing thing. I view it much in the same way as a cat call. As well-intentioned as it may be, it is not your place. I don't know what points you're trying to score in the man department by talking extremely loudly to me about Chucks and how cool you are/heeberdeeber I am, but really what's happening is you're turning into every other guy in my mind. Dis. Interestedddddddd. Too much of a good thing becomes a bad thing. I want someone that's nice, but not too nice. Cares about me, not about what "lots of girls like, duuuuuude." I appreciate the intention, but I find it unnecessary. You don't have to try so hard with me. In fact, please don't try at all. It's much less stressful and less awkward.

By the way, this isn't about any one person necessarily. This is a pent-up vent that's been waiting to come out for a while.

It's not even really that I'm that angry. It just frustrates me that people in general care more about scoring than they do the actual person they're trying to play. It just really grosses me out. We weren't made for this.

I took a love language quiz just now (since I was complaining about words of affirmation). Supposedly, I like physical touch, then quality time, then words of affirmation, and then acts of service. And supposedly I don't care at all for receiving gifts. Haha Another way to translate it is Touch Oriented/Verbally Oriented and.... no visual orientation at all.... I hope that's okay.

Also, I am very much an INFJ/Aries. I wish I could post everything I just looked up, but that would seem creepy. Look up YOUR zodiac and Myers-Brigg's personality type! (I feel like all that this blog is missing now is like a Visitor Counter, some type of vertically organized little side panel with listed sponsors, and all of the latest fashions, as well as how I absolutely aDoReeeee Clemence Poesy and Erin Wasson... No, it's ok. I'll go on and fess up to it.

I do. Particularly Erin Wasson, of course.

:::A NEW HOME:::

Venice Biennale

So I think I found a house...

OK I'VE GOT TO SHARE!!!!!

It's a little three bedroom/one bathroom green house with hardwood floors on Robinson. It has an adorable front porch. Oh, and it has a back porch too, along with a fenced-in back yard. No big deal. Washer and dryer, central ac and heat, a walk-in shower AND a claw foot bathtub. (Now I can take my bathtub pics and they won't be as emo!!!) Anyway, I'd like to move in today if possible? I just can't wait! It's high time for something new. Also, I would like to say that I would like to take pictures of me and my fellow roommates in front of every house we've lived in (upon moving in or moving out). I think I'll start doing this.

I'll probably get my new piercing tonight after the Engine show, just sayin. I'm thinking probably something like this piercing. Pretty frickin cool. Wanna come with? Okaaaaaay.

I would like to say that it is extremely unfortunate that I have vitamin deficiencies that make me super tired. It's unfortunate for anyone, but it's particularly unfortunate for someone who HATES missing out on things, HATES waking up alone and works 60 hours a week. It causes very frustrated awakenings and much-shorter-than-expected times off. For instance I worked from 8:30 yesterday morning til 8:45 last night... And slept from 9:15 last night til 9 this morning. So much for plans. It's a problem sometimes.

Hugs

Martine Eshuis

I'd like a hug. From any angle. I won't be picky. Just a hug. A hug I'm not expecting would be the best--the special kind; a hug where someone I love sneaks up behind me and pulls my waist in, arm reaching across my torso, hand on my shoulder, cheek resting on my head, just holding each other, and I can't stop smiling..........

Sigh. A hug in general is fine too. Just a real hug that's platonic is cool I guess.

I can't wait to have roommates and a new place to live!!!

GIF

Sooooo.... I just figured out how to rig .gif files to work on Blogger. I mean, what of it?

Things I Wish I'd Known

Vulnerable post...... Sigh. .....I want to be even half the woman that I thought I would be as a little girl. I want to respect myself. I think it’s a good thing that, as a rule, I’m very comfortable in my own skin. That I don’t put on a show for people. But somewhere along the way, I just started doing whatever I wanted to at the time and lazily thinking that it didn’t really matter. “Whatever I’m doing is just because it’s me and what I feel like doing at this second.” I admired my own care-freeness more than I did my innocence. By trying to never grow up and trying to hold onto my childlike sense of curiosity and excitement, I somehow lost the thing that is to be valued most about childhood. I’ll never be a saint, and I don’t want to be. But I do want to know that I can say no. That I can say yes. That it’s fine to feel conviction and to let yourself act on it.

I feel like one of those preachy people, I'm sorry. I’m very hard on myself. I make it sound like I’m this horrible person. Honestly, most of the things I do I don’t really see a problem with. I’ll always be more “out there,” daring and goofy than most girls are. I always was. But the thing that bothers me is that I feel like I have very little standards. There are a small handful of things I say no to. There’s nothing wrong with saying no. There’s nothing wrong with not doing something because you’re uncomfortable with it. There’s nothing wrong with not pleasing everyone. I feel like there's a point where you wake up and just think, "What do I stand for? Who am I? Am I proud of what I've become?" I feel like this is that moment. It's kind of embarrassing because I feel it pretty strongly.

I just want to be who I saw in me when I was little—who I hoped to be. I want to get back a bit to that girl. The girl that looked up to people. The girl that knew so little. The girl that cared.

I'll Sing "I've Got The World On a String" and Mean It

This lovely artist is Maurizio Anzeri (the whole set is on this link). This is awesome.

I have a friend that's getting their pilot license next week and has a plane. This friend said that they will be flying them and a group of friends to New Orleans Jazz Festival in April for the Sunday show.... Thinking about going. Sure, it's only one day.... And it's the day Bruce Springsteen is headlining. :/ BUT Janelle Monae would be there! And Iron and Wine (even though I've already seen them). John Mayer will be there which is not super thrilling, but I wouldn't mind seeing him at least once before I die. Bottom line is it's a MUSIC FESTIVAL... in NEW ORLEANS... involving a ROAD TRIP... IN THE AIR... with OLD AND NEW FRIENDS. I mean, how could I really say no, right? All for roughly $150. It's one thing I never foresaw happening. (Still might not, but it's a definite possibility).

But don't worry. I just spent the last thirty minutes between the last paragraph and this one researching blogs regarding Bonnaroo's and Austin City Limit's unreleased 2012 lineup in case New Orleans Jazz Fest doesn't work out. There are still things to look forward to.

Everyone's racing to get married, but sometimes I wonder if it's just because they think they're that age. It's about time to settle down. And I feel that people would argue that marriage is a selfless act that you grow from. "It's not about you anymore!" Blah, blah, blah. You're only saying that because you're married and you want to be justified. Don't get me wrong--all of those things are true. You do grow as a person through marriage. You do get to take care of someone as they grow old. You do get to build a home with someone. All of these things are things I want. But I don't want them with an okay person at an okay time. I'm a hopeless romantic. I think there's probably someone out there that's perfect for me and worth waiting for (in whatever way I still have to wait); in the same way, I'll be perfect for them. I think... That's the reason I won't go on random dates with people. That's the reason the idea of hooking up with random people disgusts me. It really does. I don't want to get married until I'm utterly swept off my feet. I'm glad that I didn't follow the Norman tradition of getting married at 19 or 20, as a girl. I'm like the old maid of my family. Granted everyone is very happy in my family, but I feel like I'm the only one that still has a vivid imagination or a dream, as it were. I like my life. I like looking forward to whoever he is, if he even exists. But that's not the only thing I look forward to in life. Marriage is not that important to me. I'm more concerned with the companionship and the joining of souls than I am a rock on my finger. And that companionship and joining of souls is something worth waiting on; being by oneself is not that bad.

It sucks.

But it's not that bad.