Oh, baby do I like it. Let's find some chocolate and do somethin' sexual.
Why? Because we're gifted like Christmas.
Cee-Lo Green - I Like It
Hot Chip - Sexual Chocolate
N.A.S.A. feat. Kanye, Santogold, & Lykke Li - Gifted (Treasure Fingers remix)
Friday, August 6, 2010
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Alone finally
Most days I spend my time replaying my actions. One of my life rules is to never regret, yet I find myself regretting so much of the past few months.
I haven't been completely by myself for more than 2 hours for an entire year.
I was almost afraid of what would happen when I finally found privacy in my room.
Not much surprise... I'm alone.
It's quiet aside from my own breathing. It's almost shocking not to be interrupted.
What did I think would happen once I had my own room? That the floodgates would open up, maybe. That the privacy would let me breathe. That I could take down the wall and feel a little of what I've been avoiding thinking about in depth for so long. I didn't have time... there was so much to do... but you can't love others if you don't love yourself.
Despite what I assumed might happen, I'm at a standstill. Everything is so tangled that I don't know where to start. I find distractions during the day and then cry myself to sleep over what I can't always pinpoint. When did I become so afraid? I don't want to be one of them.
I sabotaged it all. "I say there's trouble when everything's fine... the need to destroy things creeps up on me every time."
I haven't been completely by myself for more than 2 hours for an entire year.
I was almost afraid of what would happen when I finally found privacy in my room.
Not much surprise... I'm alone.
It's quiet aside from my own breathing. It's almost shocking not to be interrupted.
What did I think would happen once I had my own room? That the floodgates would open up, maybe. That the privacy would let me breathe. That I could take down the wall and feel a little of what I've been avoiding thinking about in depth for so long. I didn't have time... there was so much to do... but you can't love others if you don't love yourself.
Despite what I assumed might happen, I'm at a standstill. Everything is so tangled that I don't know where to start. I find distractions during the day and then cry myself to sleep over what I can't always pinpoint. When did I become so afraid? I don't want to be one of them.
I sabotaged it all. "I say there's trouble when everything's fine... the need to destroy things creeps up on me every time."
Sunday, July 11, 2010
"Mr. Right" shirts and princess pants
Working with the kids has been amazing so far, even more so because they don't yet know how special they are. Every one of them is filled with the innocence and happiness that comes with childhood. It's contagious.
Their parents faces tell me they're tired. I wonder what they've been through to get here and what they've left behind, but will never get the nerve to ask.
I hope that their children don't lose their happiness-- that they keep their awe and wonder of the world they're in. That they don't let life bring them down.
I think of them every day, and the days when I wake up to see them, I think of them ALL day. Their smiles and small feet. The foreign smells of another culture, their accents and names which are so hard to pronounce.
Most importantly, I think of their trust. I already love them, and know in a few more days they'll love me back. I never want to take that for granted.
They come to school sleepy, excited, not ready to leave their mothers for the day. The boys wear princess pajamas and the girls wear shirts that say things like, "Future Mr. Right!" They don't know or care about America's cultural standards yet, and it makes me happy. We should be glad to even have clothes. There are so many more important things their parents are worrying about, and my heart aches to see the lines on their faces that I know aren't from age.
I'm dying to take photos of them so that I can remember them if they don't come back to school come fall, but I'm not sure that'd be alright. Either way, they're the only reason I'd ever wake up before 7 of my own accord. <3
Their parents faces tell me they're tired. I wonder what they've been through to get here and what they've left behind, but will never get the nerve to ask.
I hope that their children don't lose their happiness-- that they keep their awe and wonder of the world they're in. That they don't let life bring them down.
I think of them every day, and the days when I wake up to see them, I think of them ALL day. Their smiles and small feet. The foreign smells of another culture, their accents and names which are so hard to pronounce.
Most importantly, I think of their trust. I already love them, and know in a few more days they'll love me back. I never want to take that for granted.
They come to school sleepy, excited, not ready to leave their mothers for the day. The boys wear princess pajamas and the girls wear shirts that say things like, "Future Mr. Right!" They don't know or care about America's cultural standards yet, and it makes me happy. We should be glad to even have clothes. There are so many more important things their parents are worrying about, and my heart aches to see the lines on their faces that I know aren't from age.
I'm dying to take photos of them so that I can remember them if they don't come back to school come fall, but I'm not sure that'd be alright. Either way, they're the only reason I'd ever wake up before 7 of my own accord. <3
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Carry on, carry on
As if nothing really matters...
I still have no idea why anyone at all would put up with me, why any of my nonsensical texts ever get replies, why my ridiculous ideas and eerily bossy commands are humored, and most importantly, why anyone would put up with me.
I'm a little off, I scare easily, push too much, and enjoy showtunes... a lot. I never plan, am rarely sure of what I want, and can't multitask. I won't make breakfast, don't know what to say, and would rather watch movies alone. I'm loud and make too many dirty jokes. I love to keep, but hate being kept. And then I run, run, run.
On the plus side, I have pretty hair, have often been told I smell nice, love to give hugs, can paint a nice picture, and quote/listen to good music, according to me.
So I guess it balances out.
Hahaha. Honestly, I'm so sure of what's best for me it's almost comical to watch myself gravitate toward the opposite.
Sing it, baby.
I still have no idea why anyone at all would put up with me, why any of my nonsensical texts ever get replies, why my ridiculous ideas and eerily bossy commands are humored, and most importantly, why anyone would put up with me.
I'm a little off, I scare easily, push too much, and enjoy showtunes... a lot. I never plan, am rarely sure of what I want, and can't multitask. I won't make breakfast, don't know what to say, and would rather watch movies alone. I'm loud and make too many dirty jokes. I love to keep, but hate being kept. And then I run, run, run.
On the plus side, I have pretty hair, have often been told I smell nice, love to give hugs, can paint a nice picture, and quote/listen to good music, according to me.
So I guess it balances out.
Hahaha. Honestly, I'm so sure of what's best for me it's almost comical to watch myself gravitate toward the opposite.
Sing it, baby.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Santa Cruz/San Francisco
I'm hiking through the forest in the dark and searching for the moon.
Singing Bohemian Rhapsody in a field at night with faces I can't make out.
Red lipstick, dresses, and bows, the epitome of all things feminine and lovely.
Finding the moon reflected in the ocean; it only gets bigger as I get further.
Smoke, cold nights, and enough trust in the world to be outside as the hours grow smaller.
G Bmin C D... simple chords are what you make them.
Riding in cars filled with music and thought, freedom and acceptance and wondering how it would feel to be in love right this second.
Learning, realizing, and understanding what's changed and what hasn't, for better or worse.
Usually for better.
Feeling lost, floating, searching for home and finding that it's where you make it.
Acknowledging that I will always be alone in a sense.
Imagining the music that could be, making plans for tambourines and practicing singing voices.
Still missing ignorance and being able to complain about having nothing to do. Missing nothing at all.
Loving the air I breathe and wondering what inspires people to say the things they do.
"Can't believe how strange it is to be anything at all..." - Jeff Mangum
Knowing it's better to stay but not being able to shake the desire to run, run, run.
Searching for the beauty in permanence yet finding it most where it won't last.
Love is a burning thing.
Art by students, art by the famous, all feeling so much.
Surrounded by wishes and wishing they'd all come true.
Adventures.
We are all made of air... there are stars in my eyes and there's sun in my hair.
Singing Bohemian Rhapsody in a field at night with faces I can't make out.
Red lipstick, dresses, and bows, the epitome of all things feminine and lovely.
Finding the moon reflected in the ocean; it only gets bigger as I get further.
Smoke, cold nights, and enough trust in the world to be outside as the hours grow smaller.
G Bmin C D... simple chords are what you make them.
Riding in cars filled with music and thought, freedom and acceptance and wondering how it would feel to be in love right this second.
Learning, realizing, and understanding what's changed and what hasn't, for better or worse.
Usually for better.
Feeling lost, floating, searching for home and finding that it's where you make it.
Acknowledging that I will always be alone in a sense.
Imagining the music that could be, making plans for tambourines and practicing singing voices.
Still missing ignorance and being able to complain about having nothing to do. Missing nothing at all.
Loving the air I breathe and wondering what inspires people to say the things they do.
"Can't believe how strange it is to be anything at all..." - Jeff Mangum
Knowing it's better to stay but not being able to shake the desire to run, run, run.
Searching for the beauty in permanence yet finding it most where it won't last.
Love is a burning thing.
Art by students, art by the famous, all feeling so much.
Surrounded by wishes and wishing they'd all come true.
Adventures.
We are all made of air... there are stars in my eyes and there's sun in my hair.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
On another note
I'm getting on a plane tomorrow.
Half of me thinks it's better to cut ties with people so that they learn that they don't have the right to expect things of you. The other half of me would be sad to do so because it's important that the people I care for even remotely know what they mean to me. As simple as washing my hands of people and their baggage would make things, I care too much to run. Life is fleeting, appreciate everything.
Do you realize hat everyone you know someday will die?
And instead of saying all of your goodbyes
Let them know you realize that life goes fast
It's hard to make the good things last
You realize the sun doesn't go down
It's just an illusion caused by the world spinning round
Beautiful.
Half of me thinks it's better to cut ties with people so that they learn that they don't have the right to expect things of you. The other half of me would be sad to do so because it's important that the people I care for even remotely know what they mean to me. As simple as washing my hands of people and their baggage would make things, I care too much to run. Life is fleeting, appreciate everything.
Do you realize hat everyone you know someday will die?
And instead of saying all of your goodbyes
Let them know you realize that life goes fast
It's hard to make the good things last
You realize the sun doesn't go down
It's just an illusion caused by the world spinning round
Beautiful.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
I'm
trying hard to keep my mind even as it floats through my grasp and into places where I can't keep it anymore.
Spitefully, it pushes. It forces itself into dark rooms and corners, secretly loving the lost sense of sight.
Had I stayed in the darkness of the cave, I would have never discovered the darkness of the day.
I wonder which would have been better.
And by "better" I mean easier.
Spite creeps up on me every time and asks me whether I really want what I think I want.
Or do I want what I think I don't?
It fogs the windows and creates waves in the atmosphere, hot, humid and invisible, skewing perceptions and receptions, spotlighting my imperfections.
As clear as my wants and needs seem to me in the morning, by noon clouds hit and I'm a goner without my glasses.
Spitefully, it pushes. It forces itself into dark rooms and corners, secretly loving the lost sense of sight.
Had I stayed in the darkness of the cave, I would have never discovered the darkness of the day.
I wonder which would have been better.
And by "better" I mean easier.
Spite creeps up on me every time and asks me whether I really want what I think I want.
Or do I want what I think I don't?
It fogs the windows and creates waves in the atmosphere, hot, humid and invisible, skewing perceptions and receptions, spotlighting my imperfections.
As clear as my wants and needs seem to me in the morning, by noon clouds hit and I'm a goner without my glasses.
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