Monday, January 31, 2011
Friday, January 28, 2011
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Monday, January 24, 2011
Break My Fall
Corn Bran out of a mug. New? Nah...
Waking up before noon. New? Probably.
Mum's back home. I am glad, but I'm tired. Glad outweighs my heavy eyelids and the sogginess and graininess of the cereal. Heh. I don't really have much to say; I don't know what compelled me to visit the URL and create a post, really.
I couldn't sleep last night. I snuggled under the covers around 1, but likely didn't drift off into unconsciousness until 3. When I did, though, I had a rather beautiful dream about an accidental sunrise and an unusual birthday present from someone dear. It was strange, sure, but I could feel the fresh morning air in my lungs during the first part, and the flutter in my chest during the second. These dreams seem to be getting more vivid lately, and the textures stay with me through waking. It's neither a good thing nor a bad thing, it just is. Like many things, it simply is.
I can feel this upcoming week weighing upon me rather heavily. Not because of the weight of plans or double-bookings, but something about the air when I woke up this morning - the smell of the rain, maybe - tells me it's going to be cataclysmic. My, I really am a hippie.
I think I might try to go back to sleep in a bit, because I just zoned out for a good 45 seconds while staring at my cat, comtemplating the shape of her haunches. I confuse myself.
Waking up before noon. New? Probably.
Mum's back home. I am glad, but I'm tired. Glad outweighs my heavy eyelids and the sogginess and graininess of the cereal. Heh. I don't really have much to say; I don't know what compelled me to visit the URL and create a post, really.
I couldn't sleep last night. I snuggled under the covers around 1, but likely didn't drift off into unconsciousness until 3. When I did, though, I had a rather beautiful dream about an accidental sunrise and an unusual birthday present from someone dear. It was strange, sure, but I could feel the fresh morning air in my lungs during the first part, and the flutter in my chest during the second. These dreams seem to be getting more vivid lately, and the textures stay with me through waking. It's neither a good thing nor a bad thing, it just is. Like many things, it simply is.
I can feel this upcoming week weighing upon me rather heavily. Not because of the weight of plans or double-bookings, but something about the air when I woke up this morning - the smell of the rain, maybe - tells me it's going to be cataclysmic. My, I really am a hippie.
I think I might try to go back to sleep in a bit, because I just zoned out for a good 45 seconds while staring at my cat, comtemplating the shape of her haunches. I confuse myself.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Minor Chords and No Regrets
I feel as though I'm searching for meaning in a bag of Wonderbread, only slightly aware of the fact that I shan't have any luck. I feel tired. I feel blind to the beautiful, and beautiful to the blind, and I'm congested. Out, out... I need to get out. Swings.
Cookie Dough
I'm all marked up. I feel stretched, like a skin over a drum. It's very interesting, the things that happen. I question myself sometimes. Where are my boundaries? I feel as though I have some etched in pencil, but a strong enough force could entirely obliterate them. Would that be freedom, or madness?
Dance lessons tonight - I'll try to find something productive to do until then.
Dance lessons tonight - I'll try to find something productive to do until then.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Men's Deodorant
When I made the decision to leave my blemishes unmasked by concealer, I found a little peace of mind. Strange how sometimes we reach conclusions in seemingly unrelated moments.
I admit I was carrying a bit of shame and guilt with me for a while about putting my student status on hold and neglecting to apply for jobs immediately. I don't want to be a dead-weight on my mother, and I don't want to waste any time in my young life. But I reached the conclusion that, whether this is my doing or not, I'm doing heavy emotional lifting and renovating in this 'down-time'. A lot of processing is going on beneath the surface, but I'm slowly growing more aware of it. The body is an extremely mysterious learning tool, but I feel as though I've grown savvy to signs of progress. My dreams, too, have become indicative of progress. First, the purge - then the relaxation into cleanliness. It's been fun. I am content to know that I'm spending my time building myself, and surrounding myself with love. I try to brighten at least one person's day each day - I wouldn't feel comfortable hoarding.
La Roux's sound piques my interest. I have a bit of a headache and, I believe, an impending cold, but life is good. Life is kind to me.
I admit I was carrying a bit of shame and guilt with me for a while about putting my student status on hold and neglecting to apply for jobs immediately. I don't want to be a dead-weight on my mother, and I don't want to waste any time in my young life. But I reached the conclusion that, whether this is my doing or not, I'm doing heavy emotional lifting and renovating in this 'down-time'. A lot of processing is going on beneath the surface, but I'm slowly growing more aware of it. The body is an extremely mysterious learning tool, but I feel as though I've grown savvy to signs of progress. My dreams, too, have become indicative of progress. First, the purge - then the relaxation into cleanliness. It's been fun. I am content to know that I'm spending my time building myself, and surrounding myself with love. I try to brighten at least one person's day each day - I wouldn't feel comfortable hoarding.
La Roux's sound piques my interest. I have a bit of a headache and, I believe, an impending cold, but life is good. Life is kind to me.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
I'm Yours
-Jason Mraz
Open up your plans and then, you're free.
Look into your heart and you'll find love, love, love.
I guess what I be sayin' is there ain't no better reason
To rid yourself of vanities and just go with the seasons
It's what we aim to do, our name is our virtue.
***
Encouragement discourages tears of distress when we're stressed or worried
A hand on the shoulder and a prayer in our ear discourages fear
And when the voices of the body carry forth into the skies,
And the energy of the heavens presses down and has nowhere to go except through you, into the earth, through your dancing and stomping feet;
You are free.
Open up your plans and then, you're free.
Look into your heart and you'll find love, love, love.
I guess what I be sayin' is there ain't no better reason
To rid yourself of vanities and just go with the seasons
It's what we aim to do, our name is our virtue.
***
Encouragement discourages tears of distress when we're stressed or worried
A hand on the shoulder and a prayer in our ear discourages fear
And when the voices of the body carry forth into the skies,
And the energy of the heavens presses down and has nowhere to go except through you, into the earth, through your dancing and stomping feet;
You are free.
Childish
Maybe so, but vulnerability happens sometimes.
Stuffing my face with blueberry toaster waffles, wrapped in a large, synthetic 'n soft brown blanket. Comforted? Maybe. Comfortably numb? No. Cesar Milan's'-dog-resigned? Yeah. I'm basically just a big little girl who got her pigtails pulled and sat on her bum and cried.
Brazilian dance-fighting tomorrow. Might look into sword fighting. Might start workin' out or running. I hope to muster up enough energy to do those things instead of lazing around. God's got my back, I know, but I'm sort of dead-weighting sometimes. Ugh. My head hurts. I'm so dehydrated, all my water came out of my pores and eyes and I need to get some fresh stuff. Or maybe I just need a hug. From the ocean. Nah. A person. And then a glass of water would be nice.
Nonsense-sentences, whee.
Holy vision, Batman...
A young girl stands in the middle of a field. The wind gently plays with her long locks of sunflower-coloured hair, and her bottom lip is full and pouting. Her eyes are brimming with fat, salty tears. Her cheeks are plump and flushed, as if she's embarrassed. Her slightly chubby arms hang at her sides, but are slightly outstretched as though she wants the empty space between them to be filled. Her teddy bear sits in front of her, gazing up at her with it's big, glassy eyes and perpetual smile. His name tag reads 'Sir Hamilton'. He's worn around the neck from when the girl snuggled him under her chin.
I sort of want to draw her, but for now I'll just think about her and Sir Hamilton as I try, perhaps unsuccessfully, to fall asleep. I'm exhausted on every level.
Goodnight.
Stuffing my face with blueberry toaster waffles, wrapped in a large, synthetic 'n soft brown blanket. Comforted? Maybe. Comfortably numb? No. Cesar Milan's'-dog-resigned? Yeah. I'm basically just a big little girl who got her pigtails pulled and sat on her bum and cried.
Brazilian dance-fighting tomorrow. Might look into sword fighting. Might start workin' out or running. I hope to muster up enough energy to do those things instead of lazing around. God's got my back, I know, but I'm sort of dead-weighting sometimes. Ugh. My head hurts. I'm so dehydrated, all my water came out of my pores and eyes and I need to get some fresh stuff. Or maybe I just need a hug. From the ocean. Nah. A person. And then a glass of water would be nice.
Nonsense-sentences, whee.
Holy vision, Batman...
A young girl stands in the middle of a field. The wind gently plays with her long locks of sunflower-coloured hair, and her bottom lip is full and pouting. Her eyes are brimming with fat, salty tears. Her cheeks are plump and flushed, as if she's embarrassed. Her slightly chubby arms hang at her sides, but are slightly outstretched as though she wants the empty space between them to be filled. Her teddy bear sits in front of her, gazing up at her with it's big, glassy eyes and perpetual smile. His name tag reads 'Sir Hamilton'. He's worn around the neck from when the girl snuggled him under her chin.
I sort of want to draw her, but for now I'll just think about her and Sir Hamilton as I try, perhaps unsuccessfully, to fall asleep. I'm exhausted on every level.
Goodnight.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Crustacean Sympathizer
A lovely evening indeed. A few minor bumps in the earlier bits, but the rest of my night was eventful enough that I remain faithful in my attempts to chill-the-fuck-out and feel my way through life and fate and stuff instead of trying to formulate a logical strategy with which to take life. I'm not a logical being, and you'd think I'd have figured that out by now.
During the hour or so we had to kill before the movie, we wound up in an Asian supermarket. Initially, I was thrilled and intrigued by the shelves stocked with foreign and interesting products, most of which I couldn't identify - some of which I could, but only with the extremely Caucasian sense of naive pride. I was aware of how silly and white I may have looked to those who frequent the store, but I didn't care. They had taro ice cream. And, everyone knows; you have to light up and squeal when you see taro ice cream.
Anyways, everything was fine and dandy until we approached the apparent source of the mildly fishy smell that had been offhandedly mentioned and haunting our white-delight. On the back wall of the store (where, in a Canadian Safeway or IGA or whatever, the deli or pharmacy would be), there was a wall of tanks holding seafood of sorts. Again, I was excited at first, and I trotted lightly over to the bin of clams and scallops or whatever. No big deal, except they were beautiful and larger than any shells I'd seen. But my gaze ran down the remaining tanks, and there were live lobsters, live crabs, and behind these bins - fish. Tanks and tanks of fish. In each tank there was a bottom layer of dead or sick or surrendered fish, and the rest of them were either swimming blindly or floating upside-down. It was absolutely disgusting. In the tank of bullheads (big, beautiful fish with what would have been enormous, glossy eyes), one fish was vertical - nose to the top and tail to the bottom of the tank - moving in futility, trying to right itself. Some were decomposing, and the rest were inevitably diseased by their living conditions.
I suppose it isn't right for me to judge other peoples actions, but I couldn't help but want to speak up to the man who lifted a lobster out of the tank with tongs and swore in disgust as one of it's claws lifted out of the basket. I wanted to grab as many of them as possible, book it, and then let them free in the ocean. As said before, logic evades me.
Part of me feels as though the anger that mans action inspired in me should be compared to the complacency with which I buy luncheon meat from my own, familiar, Canadian grocery stores. Though I'm unfamiliar with the conditions under which my own meat was prepared, I can be certain that the priority of the suppliers was not the well being of the slaughtered animals. As with any business, I'm quite sure they are simply striving for efficiency, and, consequently, profit. Mistreated animals are everywhere, and my disgust at the man with his own metal claw makes me realize that perhaps I should apply that disgust to my own familiar habits.
In a world where people will believe what they read on their cereal boxes, dirty little time or money-saving secrets are either shrouded by the darkness of ignorance or apathy, or simply ignored; because it's always easier than fighting the 'norm'... Even if the 'norm' is entirely fucked up.
As my French teacher once said, "C'est difficile de faire tomber la machine."
I just sometimes wish that people had their priorities straight, y'know? But alas, this world is fucked up. And while that fact doesn't condemn it to a perpetual, unchanging world of darkness, sometimes these things can be stubborn.
Hopelessness inspires helplessness, and I know I'm not the only one who's written an angsty blogpost about the state of the world. Who knows - maybe one day we'll all find each other and see what we can do about this mess.
For now, though, I'm going to go to sleep. I may be a bit of a bleeding heart or whatever that means, but I think I've learned to keep it from crippling me emotionally. I remember one night in grade 7 or so when I lay awake in bed for the entire night sobbing, entirely inconsolable, about the puppies at the SPCA. Tonight, after word-vomiting my frustration into the internet, I believe I will sleep soundly after some prayer. I am thankful for the awareness, though it isn't an easy burden to carry when seemingly everyone else is so blissfully oblivious. That is ignorant of me to say, since I know that it's the case. I suppose I'm just pouting.
Goodnight.
During the hour or so we had to kill before the movie, we wound up in an Asian supermarket. Initially, I was thrilled and intrigued by the shelves stocked with foreign and interesting products, most of which I couldn't identify - some of which I could, but only with the extremely Caucasian sense of naive pride. I was aware of how silly and white I may have looked to those who frequent the store, but I didn't care. They had taro ice cream. And, everyone knows; you have to light up and squeal when you see taro ice cream.
Anyways, everything was fine and dandy until we approached the apparent source of the mildly fishy smell that had been offhandedly mentioned and haunting our white-delight. On the back wall of the store (where, in a Canadian Safeway or IGA or whatever, the deli or pharmacy would be), there was a wall of tanks holding seafood of sorts. Again, I was excited at first, and I trotted lightly over to the bin of clams and scallops or whatever. No big deal, except they were beautiful and larger than any shells I'd seen. But my gaze ran down the remaining tanks, and there were live lobsters, live crabs, and behind these bins - fish. Tanks and tanks of fish. In each tank there was a bottom layer of dead or sick or surrendered fish, and the rest of them were either swimming blindly or floating upside-down. It was absolutely disgusting. In the tank of bullheads (big, beautiful fish with what would have been enormous, glossy eyes), one fish was vertical - nose to the top and tail to the bottom of the tank - moving in futility, trying to right itself. Some were decomposing, and the rest were inevitably diseased by their living conditions.
I suppose it isn't right for me to judge other peoples actions, but I couldn't help but want to speak up to the man who lifted a lobster out of the tank with tongs and swore in disgust as one of it's claws lifted out of the basket. I wanted to grab as many of them as possible, book it, and then let them free in the ocean. As said before, logic evades me.
Part of me feels as though the anger that mans action inspired in me should be compared to the complacency with which I buy luncheon meat from my own, familiar, Canadian grocery stores. Though I'm unfamiliar with the conditions under which my own meat was prepared, I can be certain that the priority of the suppliers was not the well being of the slaughtered animals. As with any business, I'm quite sure they are simply striving for efficiency, and, consequently, profit. Mistreated animals are everywhere, and my disgust at the man with his own metal claw makes me realize that perhaps I should apply that disgust to my own familiar habits.
In a world where people will believe what they read on their cereal boxes, dirty little time or money-saving secrets are either shrouded by the darkness of ignorance or apathy, or simply ignored; because it's always easier than fighting the 'norm'... Even if the 'norm' is entirely fucked up.
As my French teacher once said, "C'est difficile de faire tomber la machine."
I just sometimes wish that people had their priorities straight, y'know? But alas, this world is fucked up. And while that fact doesn't condemn it to a perpetual, unchanging world of darkness, sometimes these things can be stubborn.
Hopelessness inspires helplessness, and I know I'm not the only one who's written an angsty blogpost about the state of the world. Who knows - maybe one day we'll all find each other and see what we can do about this mess.
For now, though, I'm going to go to sleep. I may be a bit of a bleeding heart or whatever that means, but I think I've learned to keep it from crippling me emotionally. I remember one night in grade 7 or so when I lay awake in bed for the entire night sobbing, entirely inconsolable, about the puppies at the SPCA. Tonight, after word-vomiting my frustration into the internet, I believe I will sleep soundly after some prayer. I am thankful for the awareness, though it isn't an easy burden to carry when seemingly everyone else is so blissfully oblivious. That is ignorant of me to say, since I know that it's the case. I suppose I'm just pouting.
Goodnight.
Friday, January 14, 2011
When The Elephants Arrive
Momentum, boundaries, foresight, bass, rhythm.
Water, purification, realignment, resignation, calm.
Slow songs. Solitude through all.
Vulnerability, sensitivity, fear, trust, fear. Trust. Fear.
Solitude.
Lying and listening to music that tugs at your heart and makes you sleep.
Life will be as it will. I feel so young, but so old.
Nameless cravings... for food? Hardly. For action, maybe. For change. For a break from lethargy? Yeah, alright. Maybe there's just a weight to be lifted.
Goodbye, for now.
Water, purification, realignment, resignation, calm.
Slow songs. Solitude through all.
Vulnerability, sensitivity, fear, trust, fear. Trust. Fear.
Solitude.
Lying and listening to music that tugs at your heart and makes you sleep.
Life will be as it will. I feel so young, but so old.
Nameless cravings... for food? Hardly. For action, maybe. For change. For a break from lethargy? Yeah, alright. Maybe there's just a weight to be lifted.
Goodbye, for now.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Brand New Key
Okay, as you're reading this post, play this song. I'm listening to it as I write, and I feels as though you may understand me better if you listen, too, while you read.
I'm just a little bit of a goof sometimes.
Anyways. I don't really have anything to say except that I'm in a much better mood than I was before. I'm not surprised, really. Periods of silly, wholehearted-singing-the-harmony-to-Billy-Joel songs normally follow the periods of, "Darn. I am really upset right now."
...except now a different song has come on and I feel different. Listen with me.
Bittersweet. Oh my.
Alright, well I should probably eat some food or something. I have dance lessons in 2 hours. I'm rather excited. I haven't ever done dance lessons before... How delightfully nerve-wracking.
Que sera, sera, Sarah.
Good evening.
I'm just a little bit of a goof sometimes.
Anyways. I don't really have anything to say except that I'm in a much better mood than I was before. I'm not surprised, really. Periods of silly, wholehearted-singing-the-harmony-to-Billy-Joel songs normally follow the periods of, "Darn. I am really upset right now."
...except now a different song has come on and I feel different. Listen with me.
Bittersweet. Oh my.
Alright, well I should probably eat some food or something. I have dance lessons in 2 hours. I'm rather excited. I haven't ever done dance lessons before... How delightfully nerve-wracking.
Que sera, sera, Sarah.
Good evening.
I Don't Want To Set The World On Fire
I am infinitely frustrated. This will pass in a matter of minutes, I'm aware, and perhaps it isn't wise of me to blog in this small stretch of time, but oh well. It's happening.
I am entirely baffled by testosterone. Utterly perplexed. Hormones in general have such an effect on people, and it's one of the purely natural things that is so influential in everyday life. I say this for a variety of reasons, as sort of an umbrella-observation and disguised complaint. It's improper for me to share the intimate details of my family life, but I feel as though I have about as much power against the effects of puberty as a seaweed does on the tide. It certainly is an interesting time, and the perfect opportunity to test and build my patience. Fun stuff - I hope I don't murder anyone.
Gosh, the momentum of everything is just unforgiving, is it not? I have such a tendency to get caught up in life, that I get a bit lost while trying to make sense of it all. It seems senseless to try to make sense, when the most sensible thing to do is succumb to God. Why do I try so hard to understand? Even in that distressed question, that word that drives and halts me stands solid. "Why?"
I may seem helplessly depressed, but I'm honestly not. I never really am either of those things; helpless or depressed. It's just the rhythms of life that shake these words out of me once in a while. Again, this may not have been the best time to blog, but does it really matter what other people think of you? I'm just a human with a cat on my lap and something to express.
Sue me.
I am entirely baffled by testosterone. Utterly perplexed. Hormones in general have such an effect on people, and it's one of the purely natural things that is so influential in everyday life. I say this for a variety of reasons, as sort of an umbrella-observation and disguised complaint. It's improper for me to share the intimate details of my family life, but I feel as though I have about as much power against the effects of puberty as a seaweed does on the tide. It certainly is an interesting time, and the perfect opportunity to test and build my patience. Fun stuff - I hope I don't murder anyone.
Gosh, the momentum of everything is just unforgiving, is it not? I have such a tendency to get caught up in life, that I get a bit lost while trying to make sense of it all. It seems senseless to try to make sense, when the most sensible thing to do is succumb to God. Why do I try so hard to understand? Even in that distressed question, that word that drives and halts me stands solid. "Why?"
I may seem helplessly depressed, but I'm honestly not. I never really am either of those things; helpless or depressed. It's just the rhythms of life that shake these words out of me once in a while. Again, this may not have been the best time to blog, but does it really matter what other people think of you? I'm just a human with a cat on my lap and something to express.
Sue me.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Veggie Breakfast Burger
I sit here with next to zero responsibility.
Literally, I have the bare minimum duties of
1. Existing
2. Cleaning up after myself
3. Adhering to the basic natural laws (e.g: Gravity)
...and I might even bend that last one. I have no plans today. I have no plans tomorrow.
The possibilities are so endless that it makes me feel a little trapped. Isn't that bizarre?
I prayed for God's guidance this morning, so I didn't end up wasting my time on the computer when I could just as well have gone for a nice walk, or cooked dinner for my family.
...
Just kidding, I'm getting off the computer as soon as I finish writing this.
I suppose this is what I wanted when I decided against signing up for more classes at Langara. But I can tell you one thing for certain: It definitely isn't what I had in mind. I thought I'd have to evade endless time-consuming activities, such as XBox or movies, but I can honestly tell you that they do not hold much appeal to me. It's rather unusual.
The things I'm drawn to doing include reading and dreaming and drawing and dancing. I have a funny feeling that I'm going to experience a sort of spiral effect. Not the 'spiralling downward' thing that some people may have in mind when I say that, but instead, I'll have another go at making amends with solitude. With everyone being busy and whatnot, I'll be left on my own for a while. It's going to be interesting to re-learn who I am outside of those other contexts. It's happened before, but that was definitely not by conscious choice.
It'll be fun.
But you know what's more fun than contemplating the future?
Breaking the pattern of wasting the present.
See ya. <3
Literally, I have the bare minimum duties of
1. Existing
2. Cleaning up after myself
3. Adhering to the basic natural laws (e.g: Gravity)
...and I might even bend that last one. I have no plans today. I have no plans tomorrow.
The possibilities are so endless that it makes me feel a little trapped. Isn't that bizarre?
I prayed for God's guidance this morning, so I didn't end up wasting my time on the computer when I could just as well have gone for a nice walk, or cooked dinner for my family.
...
Just kidding, I'm getting off the computer as soon as I finish writing this.
I suppose this is what I wanted when I decided against signing up for more classes at Langara. But I can tell you one thing for certain: It definitely isn't what I had in mind. I thought I'd have to evade endless time-consuming activities, such as XBox or movies, but I can honestly tell you that they do not hold much appeal to me. It's rather unusual.
The things I'm drawn to doing include reading and dreaming and drawing and dancing. I have a funny feeling that I'm going to experience a sort of spiral effect. Not the 'spiralling downward' thing that some people may have in mind when I say that, but instead, I'll have another go at making amends with solitude. With everyone being busy and whatnot, I'll be left on my own for a while. It's going to be interesting to re-learn who I am outside of those other contexts. It's happened before, but that was definitely not by conscious choice.
It'll be fun.
But you know what's more fun than contemplating the future?
Breaking the pattern of wasting the present.
See ya. <3
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Explosives
I feel especially classy sitting on the bathroom floor with my feet resting at the base of the toilet. It's the only place I can get a relatively beefy wireless connection, so I'll sacrifice the comfort of my bed for a little while longer to document exactly what's happening with my pyjama-clad self.
The discarded remnants of a wonderful night of dancing lay around me, and I can tell I had fun by the numerous runs in my nylons. It was well worth it, though I felt rather faint the entire evening. Partially my lightheadedness was due to an extremely irregular mealtime pattern, but I shyly admit that there may have been another cause for my hilariously delirious state of being. But, I digress. I had a fabulous day, not only of dancing, but of playing *Extreme* laser tag, and spending time with my friends. I'm going to put my score sheet on my bulletin board though my score is nothing to be proud of. I will accept the rampant shame of being shitty at laser tag to forever (or, for a while, at least) remember the cold, fluorescent, gun-violence-fun of tearing after small Asian children and my some-people-may-think-we're-too-old-for-this-but-I-disregard-their-judgment friends. Whom I love, for that and many other things.
I really should go to bed. I'm rather tired, and I think my ass has gone entirely numb. Numb bum. Ha. Yeah, undoubtedly time for me to get some rest. Goodnight, internet.
The discarded remnants of a wonderful night of dancing lay around me, and I can tell I had fun by the numerous runs in my nylons. It was well worth it, though I felt rather faint the entire evening. Partially my lightheadedness was due to an extremely irregular mealtime pattern, but I shyly admit that there may have been another cause for my hilariously delirious state of being. But, I digress. I had a fabulous day, not only of dancing, but of playing *Extreme* laser tag, and spending time with my friends. I'm going to put my score sheet on my bulletin board though my score is nothing to be proud of. I will accept the rampant shame of being shitty at laser tag to forever (or, for a while, at least) remember the cold, fluorescent, gun-violence-fun of tearing after small Asian children and my some-people-may-think-we're-too-old-for-this-but-I-disregard-their-judgment friends. Whom I love, for that and many other things.
I really should go to bed. I'm rather tired, and I think my ass has gone entirely numb. Numb bum. Ha. Yeah, undoubtedly time for me to get some rest. Goodnight, internet.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
White Chocolate for Dinner
Cats are my favorite ever. I like them better than blankets because when I Eskimo kiss the top of Cocoa's head, she closes her eyes and looks like a furry little Buddha. Also, she reaches her paws out and plays with my hair.
Most of my other blankets don't do that.
I shouldn't blather on for long, seeing as I should shower and then I've got somewhere to be, but whatever. I do what I want. That's a lie. Life is interesting.
Honestly, I picture Lady Fate sitting at her strategy-board, with little miniatures of every single person and animal and everything in the world, and right before she plans out my day, she gets this mischievous little grin on her face and thinks to herself, "Hm. What can I throw at this one today?" And then she sets me up, gives me a pat on the back, and sends me on my way.
I think I'm actually going to get out of here now, I can't really think of anything else I care enough to type into this box and share with the internet.
Good day.
Most of my other blankets don't do that.
I shouldn't blather on for long, seeing as I should shower and then I've got somewhere to be, but whatever. I do what I want. That's a lie. Life is interesting.
Honestly, I picture Lady Fate sitting at her strategy-board, with little miniatures of every single person and animal and everything in the world, and right before she plans out my day, she gets this mischievous little grin on her face and thinks to herself, "Hm. What can I throw at this one today?" And then she sets me up, gives me a pat on the back, and sends me on my way.
I think I'm actually going to get out of here now, I can't really think of anything else I care enough to type into this box and share with the internet.
Good day.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Animal Crackers - Melanie Safka
Oh, eat your animal crackers
'Cause my mother told me so long ago,
"If you eat your animal crackers,
The children in Europe won't starve anymore".
Hahaha hahahaha hahaha.
Once I went on a diet
A carbohydrate diet
A carbohydrate diet ain't nice
'Cause you can't eat animal crackers.
So, I'm gonna stay a fatty for all of my life,
Hahaha hahaha.
But some people think that fatties are nice, yeah.
Oh I love eating ice cream,
Chocolate, vanilla and butter pecan,
But I best love animal crackers
'Cause I love helping my fellow man.
Yeah, I eat more crackers than anyone can
Hahaha haha.
Did you ever hear of Alice's restaurant?
I eat at Alice's restaurant year after year.
She makes an animal cracker pizza, ha
And she gives animal crackers out free with the beer.
Oh, let's give Alice a great big cheer.
She knows the age of the animal cracker is here.
Ah, animal crackers are in this year!
Ha ha hahaha.
Oh, fa la la la la, la la la la.
'Cause my mother told me so long ago,
"If you eat your animal crackers,
The children in Europe won't starve anymore".
Hahaha hahahaha hahaha.
Once I went on a diet
A carbohydrate diet
A carbohydrate diet ain't nice
'Cause you can't eat animal crackers.
So, I'm gonna stay a fatty for all of my life,
Hahaha hahaha.
But some people think that fatties are nice, yeah.
Oh I love eating ice cream,
Chocolate, vanilla and butter pecan,
But I best love animal crackers
'Cause I love helping my fellow man.
Yeah, I eat more crackers than anyone can
Hahaha haha.
Did you ever hear of Alice's restaurant?
I eat at Alice's restaurant year after year.
She makes an animal cracker pizza, ha
And she gives animal crackers out free with the beer.
Oh, let's give Alice a great big cheer.
She knows the age of the animal cracker is here.
Ah, animal crackers are in this year!
Ha ha hahaha.
Oh, fa la la la la, la la la la.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Off With a Bang
"Oh, no. Here she goes again, whining to the internet with vague and vaguely sarcastic metaphors, never really hitting her point and essentially just vomiting text and emotion onto a web page. Why is this even necessary? Why do you actually put the extra effort into posting these paragraphs online instead of writing them in a journal?"
To tell you the truth, I don't know. There's something rather satisfying about the word 'publish', however. I can say whatever I want in my written journals, but I'm the only one who ever reads them, and thus they are only ever subject to my judgment and my reflection.
I'm wrapped in a blanket.
I'm wrapped in a dryness that's making my face feel tight and my lips chapped.
My eyes are begging for a break, and my heart feels like a mug full of water, spilling over the rim.
I have to go to bed now.
Goodnight.
To tell you the truth, I don't know. There's something rather satisfying about the word 'publish', however. I can say whatever I want in my written journals, but I'm the only one who ever reads them, and thus they are only ever subject to my judgment and my reflection.
I'm wrapped in a blanket.
I'm wrapped in a dryness that's making my face feel tight and my lips chapped.
My eyes are begging for a break, and my heart feels like a mug full of water, spilling over the rim.
I have to go to bed now.
Goodnight.
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