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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.

Clothes and Dylan

Some of my pictures. Most of them are gone, but these still exist.

I had my bi-monthly binge fest last night which included a Mrs. Field’s ice cream cookie sandwich (chocolate chip, of courses) and a bottle of chocolate milk over a movie. I know how people make fun of how girls always like to talk about what they ate. But it’s soooo tRuEeEeEeeeee!!!... The film of choice was "50/50." I don’t know how I always manage to attempt to watch comedies and they always end up being sad movies about someone with cancer. I swear! They always advertise the movies like they’re these sweet little love stories or these movies that are more comedies than anything else. Nope. Someone always undergoes chemotherapy and I end up getting so unbelievably sad. THEY’RE NOT COMEDIES IF YOU CRY TO THEM!!! And I don’t even cry that much, gosh…

Also, since Pinterest is now inaccessible and I’m having a mild case of withdrawals… I would like to introduce three labels that I would be MORE THAN FINE with having unlimited access to for the rest of my life.

Maison Scotch (Scotch and Soda).

Burberry Prorsum

Madewell.

You’re welcome.

Don't Think Twice, It's All Right may be my favorite song in the world right now.

Bob Dylan is my favorite writer.

Travel Babble

Well what do you know! Wearing skinny jeans to the law firm work just cuz they’re black is completely acceptable (on occasion, of course, I’m sure).

I went to the dentist today for the first time in three years. My teeth look absolutely immaculate; my gums look like swollen plums. Kinda like these lovely women.

I would like to also say that my dental hygienist, Debbie (you have to say her name with a mocking face), has been my dental hygienist for as long as I can remember. Every time I go to the dentist, I hope she’s gotten fired. I almost got up out of the chair today and told her “Never mind” on the appointment because she is so rough. She is such a masculine-handed lady that always asks awkward questions and wants to be best friends. She also said that I drank too much coffee.

I spent last night discussing the intricacies of dreams, UFO’s, the theory of relativity and the breaking of sound barriers. It was an ideal night full of interesting conversations that were discussed in a very scientific, excited and fascinated fashion. I was beside myself that someone would oblige the nerd side of me in conversation; just a day in the life. I love my friends.

• Also, I looked into bus and plane tickets today. To random places. I’ve always said that one of the main things on my bucket list is to get my passport and just fly anywhere on a whim—not tell anyone where I’m going… Just leave for a little while and get to explore something on my own, perhaps, and plan it as I go. So I looked into prices today. Round-trip bus tickets within a four hour radius is about $80. Plane tickets to the northern side of the States is roughly $200. And anything like Costa Rica, Paris, etc. is at least $800, which is slightly out of my price range... Honestly, I’d like to visit the Northwest at some point and will probably end up doing that. I want to take a bus someday (on the bucket list) as well as fly by myself (also on the bucket list). Now that I have two jobs, the idea isn’t quite so far fetched. I mean, if not now then when? I’m free-spirited; this is the only life I get to lead. I want to see everything. Believe it.

Your Mind Was Made

It’s funny. When you’re known for writing songs far too honestly and from personal experience, it sucks showing people new songs. Because even if the songs are based on imagination, people assume that the song is your actual opinion. And you want to explain that the song is a dramatization; it’s not really exactly how you feel. But no one believes that.

And then you start feeling really fake and guilty because you’ve always written from what you feel. Suddenly, you feel like you’re writing not for you but for other people. It’s as if you’re writing something so it will sell (as if) or that you’re lying so you can pull at people’s hearts. You start thinking about the person that the song was written about (or the muse, as it were) and you start wondering if they will be offended or if they will be prideful about it. You start wondering if they will know it is about them; you start wondering if they will feel sorry for you. I don’t want that. It was a song that came out in fifteen minutes. I didn’t think at all about the whole first verse. I just started singing it and wrote it down, and everything stuck. But should it really be that easy? I want my music to mean something. It does mean something to me, but… I guess I’ve grown comfortable with being completely vulnerable in my lyrics. I’ve grown comfortable with tearing up in a song, having my voice crack, being embarrassed and seeing the looks on everyone’s face. I’ve grown comfortable with being bare in front of people, being real. So when I feel like I’m stretching the truth or the emotion in it, something feels wrong. I start wondering if I’m even that good of a writer. I start wondering if I can feel anything at all anymore. I start feeling non-human, unfeeling.

And then I wonder if the lyrics really are how I feel after all. I start to wonder if it’s simply a song that is more honest than I’m comfortable with placing in someone else’s ears so soon. I start wondering if that is why I made up the excuse of detachment. I start wondering if that is why I stretched parts of the song, just so that I could say the whole song was a dramatization.

I get lost somewhere along the way and everything starts to feel off. I over-think it, but it's only because I really do care so much.

Either way, a song has been completed. It’s a good simple song, nothing special. But there is a great deal of emotion in it. Whether it’s all real or not, I don’t know. I hate that I can’t just pump out songs and be okay with it. I want every one of them to be my baby. I want to know exactly what I felt when I wrote every single one.

I guess I’ll remember what I felt about this one after all. What a strange feeling.

On another note, it feels good to have some form of artistic expression come out. It's been months.

Also, my work decided to block Pinterest.... :( This is more upsetting than I would like to admit. Haha

Leaving vs. Staying

You know what I’ve been thinking of?

People hate losing friends. People hate being separated. But what is worse—being the one that’s leaving or being the one that’s left? I’m not talking about any romantic thing or death or anything of the heartstrings sort. I’m talking about moving off to college. I’m talking about you having friends over versus you being the one that leaves your friend’s house. Simple stuff. Just a matter of preference at the root of it, I believe.

There are perks and downsides to each.

Let’s talk about being the one doing the leaving. If you’re this person, you get to decide when you leave. It won’t take you by surprise ever. Also, when you leave, you have something to look forward to, even if it’s a ten minute drive home. You get to decide how you’ll spend the rest of the night from that point onward. You want a candy bar? Suuuuuure, stop by and get one! It’s on the way home, after all.

Now, let’s talk about being the one that stays behind. If you’re this person, you don’t have to go anywhere. You just stay put and remain in the place you were content to be before the other person was there in the first place. You can get back to your daily activities. You can settle back into normality and what you are comfortable doing.

…Who am I kidding? The second one sounds HORRIBLE!!!! I don’t know if it’s a matter of who is a homebody and who isn’t. I don’t know if it has something to do with me being scared I’ll turn around and everyone left. But I know I would much rather be the one doing the leaving than be the one who stays behind. One isn’t necessarily easier than the other. There’s just something about a car ride that comforts me. Some of my most horrendous and lovely moments have happened in a car. That being said, for me it’s easier to drive away from someone than it is to see them drive away from me. There’s this feeling of loneliness when you see your friends drive off. There’s no soundtrack to distract you (as there is if you’re the one driving away in a car) and there are no sights to cheer you. It just sounds so boring and sad.

On another note, I had a naked dream AND a rape dream the night before last. My last naked dream was not embarrassing; it was awesome. I was actually quite proud of myself and my coming-into-my-own. But this naked dream was embarrassing again. I suppose I’m back to childhood shyness. The rape dream was not cool. That’s never happened before. It was scary and made me feel weird. Also, last night, I dreamed that one of my friends turned on me and was planning on killing me, chasing me through the woods with some knife/scissor concoction. They cut my finger and I felt it. I woke up and the cut wasn’t there.

I’ve been sleeping fine lately. It’s just that I dream horrible things are happening to me and I can’t do anything about it but run. It’s always in a place that I haven’t been before. I’m always trying to figure my way out. I’m always by myself and friends are nearby, but none of them know where I am. And I never can quite get away from what wants to hurt me. It’s odd because I think I feel fine. The dreams make me more uneasy than my actual state does. I mean I’m doing well. I just want to stop having nightmares.

Also, I would like to say that I want to try on a dress this fantastic someday.