Saturday, December 24, 2011
We all want it.
.... And this time of year makes people CRAZY. Seriously. Mentally ill.
I guess Christmas at our age has less to do with family these days and more to do with romance. I don't know who it was that got that magic-must-find-someone-to-snowball-with-at-the-Gallivan-Center ball rolling.
But they're mean and conniving.
They probably started out at Hallmark.
So here is today. A sad excuse to stay inside.
Partially because it's Christmas Eve. Partially because walking out that door would constitute de-uglifying myself in a poor attempt to contain the stench emanating from my scalp.
That was disgusting. Don't re-read that.
I'm just talking about nothing today.
I'm a stupid girl. I have joined the girl world officially.
Complete with violent hitting, over-developed sensitivity to anger, and a constant array of screaming.
I hate myself.
If this goes on for much longer I'm going to have to ask one of you to kindly take a shovel to my forehead.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
— Now that I've moved out and have detached myself from the house where I grew up, I no longer feel the boiling aversion to the idea of moving. (the subject is always a talked about one in my family, do not be alarmed, it wouldn't happen overnight)
|Santa's Little Helper...|
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Thursday, November 10, 2011
I want to walk up to a sculpture and not just say "Is that Salvador Dalí?" What I really want to say is: "I'm quite certain that the man who created this was named Salvador Domènec Felip Jacint Dalí i Domènech, Marquis de Púbol. I want you to tell me that I'm right, and If I'm right, I want you to be impressed with my knowledge of art."
I wonder what people would do.
How would we begin to treat each other if everyone did that. If people said not only exactly what they meant, but what they expected to take place after they said it.
What would people do if intent was completely transparent?
But no, we simply ask in hopeful, and quite frankly, apologetic tones to get the affirmation we seek.
Like whispering at a door for its admittance, instead of just knocking.
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Sometimes, I not only neglect my blog, but I neglect everyone else's.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Friday, September 30, 2011
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
So. Now that I've found my red long, lost iPod- You know the one- I'm re-rediscovering it.
It's like when you read a book as a child and it means so much to you then, but then you read it again when you're older, and it means something completely different but also so much more than it did before because you have that back ground of it meaning to you something then. (Breathe!)
Anyway. Ever since the Death Cab concert, I'm so INTO them. I mean.... I can. Not. Get. Enough of them. I'm in the middle of a desert walking for miles and miles and they are the freaking oasis.
So I was listening to A Lack of Color, and I remember loving the song, but because of how it sounded. I've decided to listen to all of their albums I have, and go through them word by word, phrase by phrase.
I would post the lyrics... Well... should I ? okay I will (Also, I'm sorry that I always post lyrics... it seems like I have nothing to say of my own, but, well, Ben Gibbard always says it better than I ever will)
here they are:
And when I see you
I really see you upside down
But my brain knows better
It picks you up and turns you around
Turns you around
Turns you around
If you feel discouraged
When there's a lack of color here
Please don't worry lover
It's really bursting at the seams
The spectrum's A to Z
This is fact, not fiction
For the first time in years
All the girls in every girlie magazine
Can't make me feel any less alone
I'm reaching for the phone
To call at 7:03
And on your machine, I slur a plea
For you to come home
But I know it's too late
I should have given you a reason to stay
Given you a reason to stay
Given you a reason to stay
Given you a reason to stay
This is fact, not fiction
For the first time in years...
This is where I got confused, or lazy... I didn't know what it meant really. So this is some guys response to it.
I think it's pure genius.
Pure beauty. Okay read.
"The whole song is a study of reality through the lens of opposites: inside vs. outside, fact vs. fiction, heart vs. brain. When looking at something, which view shows the soul or the truth of the matter, and which is just a shadow or filter of the truth.
In the midst of his loneliness in the aftermath of being left, he's perfecting his idea of what he had. He's longing for a perfection that he never really had. Is he longing for fact or a fiction he's created for himself?
The first stanza sets this up with the heart vs. the mind contradiction. The eye with vision (just like the heart with relationships) is the first receptor, the first judge. Because, it's first, is it closer to the original and therefore more true? or is the brain more true after it's had time to correct our eye's vision. Our brain tends to do the same thing to our heart after a while in a relationship. The brain is always catching up with our instincts.
By repeating "turns you around" several times, he's emphasizing that the brain does more than just a physical function of inverting an image, but the brain also locks onto the idea and dwells on it, dissects it, considers it over and over again and thinks it over constantly.
But is all that thinking and interpretation bringing him closer to the truth, or further from the truth. Did he really have a perfect relationship, or is he weaving a myth of perfection. Which is fact, which is fiction? The heart or the mind?
In the last lines of the song I think he realizes that he's longing for a false perfection. His reality is that he's alone now. That's the fact. The fiction is the relationship that's now over: they were together, but it couldn't work because it wasn't true. All the time they spent together was just a sham because at the heart of the matter it couldn't work."
Anyways. These are the times that I probably just don't have any original thought. Just when I think everyone else is a genius and has truth to say, because I'm a little burned out for finding it myself.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Friday, August 5, 2011
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Saturday, June 11, 2011
So, I'm listening to Dave Matthews right now
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Monday, June 6, 2011
The beginning of the end of the beginning of the end of the beginning of the endless circle of an existence
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Monday, May 16, 2011
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Just know, that sometimes, after years and years of waiting and groaning and running and mumbling and just wanting to take a blessed walk in the park away from all that is and was.... Well. You get what you need.
Saturday. April 23. You must admit, it was a beautiful, blessed Saturday.
Today, however, I taught my first lesson in Primary! (I now teach the eleven-year-olds namely Meghan, Jasmine, Courtney, Caitlyn, Emily, and beautiful Adi Jensen)
They are hilarious. / they are not funny, but they somehow thing everything that comes out of my mouth is intended as a joke. .. Maybe it's the hair? I dunno.
But they really are a joy.
We talked about Easter today.
We talked about Resurrection.
We talked about the tradition of an egg and where the devil it comes from . (If you wanted to know, it's French and the Egg is a symbol of the Stone that had to be overturned by the Angel Elias)
But most importantly we spoke of hope.
The Original Hope.
Hope is a funny thing. (As my girls would probably burst out laughing at this point...)
It drives us to attempt the impossible. It drives us to surrender any doubts, fears, insecurities and to bound into the seemingly dark, desolate, empty space. Hoping that someone is there to catch us, feel us, understand us, love us, vouch for us.
In a way the only hope that is actually real, that actually works, is the hope that is somewhat knowledge.
It's an action.
We put that hope to action, plug it into the equation, set that hope on fire and watch it take of running, watch the solution appear from the sea of division signs and square roots, watch it conflagrate.
And even if that hope burns and dies, there is still the satisfaction of actually trying.
Failing is never the end, It's just the time where you learn you cannot fly, but maybe you can ride a scooter, instead. Then maybe one day, you'll try and fly again, and you never know....
Maybe hope is just an experiment you try over and over until it becomes reality.
Keep hoping, keep trying, until that hope is who you are: a hoper--> a doer--> a seeker--> a finder.
Anyway. I love those girls. They're beautiful. They're at the stage where they don't know what it's like to doubt. Not anything. Not their looks, or their grades, or their peers, or the world, or themselves. They have so much hope for things. Not anything like the Jr. High and High School kids who worry too much, who "know" the world is harmful and cruel, and who "know" that they are not good enough.
And guess who is the happiest out of all the world?
What's needed most is sometimes the reassurance that your hope is not in vain.
Who is the person to assure you that it's not?
It's yourself. (+2 others)
To need=to make a commitment.
Happy Easter, Everyone.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Monday, March 14, 2011
This is the main point I learned in Financial Lit today:
I'm done for.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
HOW TO PROVE BLUSTERY TESTOSTERONE LEVELS:
STEP 3. Take orders from said beautiful, yet accident-prone girl.