May reflect

Remembrance Day started decades ago to commemorate military men and women who died serving their country. Cemeteries, parades, and properly posted flags could be observed in towns all around the US today. I respect the people that voluntarily enlist knowing the risks and benefits, the rules and the freedoms, the comraderie and the honor. The wars they fight in and may die for require us to demand explanations and justifications for armed conflicts; as Pres. Lincoln so eloquently stated, we do not want others to die in vain, so I suppose formally remembering and reflecting on the positive changes brought about by national and world wars--and those that helped fight for those changes--is really the least we civilians enjoying a day off of work can do. In recent years, Memorial Day has come to represent a general day of mourning for all that have passed--veterans or not. Today has been set aside to remember the dead and reflect on the effect on the living.

I do not know anyone in the armed services who has died on duty, but I have experienced the loss of loved ones. I have also experienced the loss of innocence, dreams, and faith. But what is the point of living in the past--of dwelling on what we have lost? Yes, to lose something or someone you love is tragic, and the void may be irreplaceable. However, what have you gained from those losses? Knowledge? Courage? Perspective?

While today may remind us of goodbyes, I think today also prompts us to move forward and see the present and future not as a blank slate of annihilism but as empty boxes waiting to be filled with experience. Good and bad experience. Unknown experience. Our experience.

This past month has forced me to remember and reflect, experience and ponder, live and imagine. The last 31 days have prompted me to celebrate each day, mourn the casualties, respect the experience. I remember.

Will you?

may soak it up.

pink candle, white Zinfandel, hot bath, and chenille robe = Sunday night. I might even fit in some reading. Hope you're relaxing and enjoying this evening too.

may appreciate my love for french fries even more.

starting july 1,2011, hawaii will become the first state to outlaw the consumption of shark fin, according to a yahoo news article entitled, "no more eating shark fin in hawaii after new law" that was posted on yahoo's website approximately 2 hours ago.

the article states that shark fin harvesting has brought the species to near extinction. nearly 89 millions sharks are killed in international waters each year-- AP writer audrey mcavoy claims some fins are lopped off and the carcasses are just dumped in the ocean to rot. the article stresses that both chinese food culture and hawaiian culture include shark fin as a status symbol for those who can afford it ($17 for a cup of shark fin soup) and who ascribe to the worship of ancestral gods and legends. the article highlights both the popularity of shark fin but simultaneously its draw to the elite--"in hong kong, high end [chinese] restaurants can charge $1,000 for premium shark fin" (par. 9)--and chinese food culture loyals. even though the article reports that shark is rather flavorless, the sauces and preparation make the dish enjoyable. shark fin may prevent cancer and may provide other good nutritional benefits, which is one reason why the illegalization of shark fin upsets some people.

i was attracted to the plight of shark fin eaters because i too am an enjoyer of food. i love french fries, gummy worms, and many other empty calorie choices. the thought of a worldwide potato shortage sends me into immediate panic. what would i do without my golden sticks of comfort? like shark fin, french fries provide some nutritional benefit since they are made from vegetables; they are full of fiber and contain no cholesterol. but i understand that i may not be the only enjoyer of this product and could possibly contribute to the cause of its overproduction. as if the ban itself wouldn't be terrible enough, the government would meddle and intervene and establish a law to restrict the sale and consumption of this food item and distract important law makers from more pressing issues at hand-- like instigating world wars and approve low-life lazy hypocrites for medicaid.

enjoy your shark fin, rich people. as if there is no other food item on your ritzy menu that could reasonably satisfy your palate. and swim freely, little sharks, in the depths of the oceans doing whatever it is that you do that deserves protection under the united states government. don't feel guilty for depriving the patrons of kirin restaurant of their "'indulgent activity'"-- i'm sure they will find some other animal to nom on.

meanwhile, i cling tightly to my deep-fried potato wedges; whatever would i do without them.

May crash.

In my youth, controlling my hunger was the ultimate exertion of power--my mind could control my body. If I was mad or stressed, I would stop eating and let the churning stomach acid sear my inner glutton's desires for nourishment.

Things change.

I worked a 12 hour day, battled Eagle Rd at noon on the Friday before Memorial Day, stifled my bursting desires to tell some people they were stucking fupid, realized I did not renew my lease and will be paying $125 more for June's rent, and suppressed all desires to tell x I miss him and can't we hang out like we used to. I'm so totally making Chef Boyardee ravioli for dinner with garlic French bread and white Zinfandel.

Bring on the carbs.

may wallow.

today is the first day that i sat in front of the computer screen wondering what to write about. i even googled "writing prompts"-- the results were lame-- to get me started. today is day 27, so i suppose i should be proud that running out of ideas took this long. i should also be proud that 26 posts were ready to be discussed and this blog allowed me to share those ideas with you. i sincerely hope you've enjoyed reading my posts so far-- i will continue to post, just not as frequently. if you don't have a blog, i really encourage you to do so. arijaan inspired me and said i should write even if it seems trivial at the time. writing for an audience (even if it's only me) forces you to consider your purpose and how to best relay your ideas to your ideal reader.

so enough with the confessions.

i figured out what i want to write about now.

i want to do something great. instead of putting my faith in other people to surprise me and entertain me and make me happy, i should concentrate on moving past this general acceptance of mediocrity and delve into something so that i can be proud of myself.

will it be a painting for the large wall in my main room? i tire of relying on posters.com or tj maxx to sell something i will fall in love with.

will it be a series of short shorts? i grow bored of suffering through entire novels when the same message can be produced in 500 words or less.

will it be my first complete collection of stationary? i know i can design envelopes and letterhead and seals just as original and cute as hallmark's proferrings.

will it be composing my first song? i've been writing song lyrics since i was 12 and playing instruments long before that.

what will it be, readers? what is your greatest accomplishment?

may partake in National Sorry Day.

thirteen ways of saying i'm sorry

after stevens

I

1985, korea

in august.

you still named me sunshine.

i'm sorry if i ruined your life

but you saved mine.

II

banana slugs, misty

gray air, and shores of driftwood:

i'm sorry i forget more

and more of you each day.

III

i'm sorry; i would have loved

to meet you.

IV

i tell people i do not

like the taste of gin.

the truth is

i am reminded of you, summer

nights, and the pine scent of your tongue.

i'm sorry, i should not

lie.

V

frag

mented syl

lables

crushed f

or

m

i'm so

rry y

our brain an

d mine

can't com

municate.

VI

i like to think

after four years together

that we didn't talk about marriage,

babies, money, and "what if" not

because we didn't want a shared future

but because the present was more than enough.

i'm sorry i didn't thank you

for each and every day

we spent together, happy.

VII

i'm sorry:

"o my people, what have i done unto thee"

sounds like an oops.

VIII

i should never have let you

marry him-- i'm sorry.

IX

maybe because your hair is soft

maybe because you smell like a morning shower at 11 pm

maybe because my hands fit inside yours

maybe because you giggle when i kiss you

maybe it's all the little things

that make me sorry

i wanted you more

than you wanted me.

X

crunchy green peppers

extra packet of spicy sauce

clumps of hamburger--

i'm sorry

your home-cooked chili

just doesn't compare

to wendy's.

XI

sometimes i wake up in the middle

of the night and wonder

if you just got up to use the bathroom.

in the dark,

i remember you

are not there,

you chose not to be there,

and you will never be there.

i force myself back

to sleep before the deep ache

in my chest causes any more tears

to

fall.

i'm sorry

you won't be here to hold me.

XII

i'm sorry your failures

make me feel accomplished.

XIII

daunting mobile of words

and phrases dangle

i no

longer know

if they are mine

or yours.

i'm sorry

if my imitation

is the only way

i can connect

with greatness.

may double-speak.

we're evolving into a society where once is not enough. one-car garage? so yesterday. monogamy? forget about it. saying things one time? psh. please.

take, for instance, the girl at great clips. i shall refer to her as jenny, because she reminds me of jenny from "gossip girl." part of the great clips experience is checking in with your phone number-- and it was jenny's job to type in phone numbers and verify the account. most of jenny's check-ins went like this:

mom: my phone number is xxx-xxxx.
jenny: xxx.... what?
mom: xxx-xxxx.
jenny: xxx-xx.... what? sorry.
mom: XXX-XXXX.

she only asked for my phone number twice in its entirety. but her need for repetition really got me thinking: was 7 digits really too much for her to handle (she was very tiny-- you clicked in the picture of jenny, right?), and has our society enabled this sort of aggravating redundancy? i mean, one season of "rock of love" just wasn't enough-- vh1 had to air the twice-told tale of rock star wants hawt girl but she just wants fame which is really just what he wants like totally!!!! three times.

even ke$ha agrees. in her song, "tik tok," she narrates the typical "going out" with the girls experience in all its catchy glory. (if you're so inclined, you can watch the video here.) for one part of the song, ke$he repeats the last word of each line-- perhaps for emphasis (the poet in me hopes so) but mostly for memorability:

i'm talking pedicure on our toes toes
trying on all our clothes clothes
boys blowing up our phones phones

her lyrics reveal a certain type of girl-- one who is materialistc, self-conscious, and popular. the whole song seems to celebrate the self-centeredness of partying all night until the authorities finally step in and force the night to end:

now now we go until they kick us out out
or the police shut us down down
police shut us down down
po po shut us down

both examples point to key parts of the song that reveal character and personality. considering that ke$ha has been described as taylor swift + garbage, i think a textual analysis of her lyrics is rather kind.

it gets worse though. repetitive music lyrics really begins to border on troubling with justin bieber and sean kingston's "eenie meenie" (which i've linked to previously... it's that disturbing to me...). the bridge and chorus are as follows:

you cant make up your mind mind mind mind mind
please dont waste my time time time time time
i'm not trying to rewind wind wind wind wind
i wish our hearts could come together as one

shawty is an eenie meenie mo lover
shawty is an eenie meenie mo lover
shawty is an eenie meenie mo lover
shawty is an eenie meenie mo lover

this section is repeated 3.5 times throughout the whole song. i don't know if these "artists" are just incapable of writing creative and different lyrics (much like jenny's inability to remember 7 numbers), or if our expectations for acceptable music now include incessant repetition for its catchy effect.

i know that repetition can be used in many interesting literary ways. for example, martin luther king jr's repetition of the key phrase "i have a dream" in his 1963 political speech emphasizes the disparity between reality and fantasy and the power of vision to motivate change. i realize that not all repetition is bad or scornful--

but but but
i have my doubts that most repetition is skillfully and purposefully used in productive ways. actually, i'm positive that most redundancy just takes up space, fills the void for paying attention, and allows us to get away with being lazy.

unless you can prove me wrong wrong?

may find prince that'll-do

Modeled after Jana's Facebook status:

Prince: hey.

Me: hey.

Prince: I am educated, witty, and enjoying doing x, y, and z. I would love to hang out with you but I also want my own space and me-time in our relationship.

Me: awesome. I too am educated, very sarcastic, and silly. Will you be goofy with me?

Prince: absolutely. And I really want to travel and live life so I hope you're not baby-hungry.

Me: no way! I want to see new places with someone I love and create memories. A little mischeif-making is always fun...

Prince: I love that you have a full-time job with benefits and 401k, because I do too!

Me: I love that you have your own place just like me.

Prince: I hope you don't mind that I'm a little mysterious...not the psycho kind. I would never call you a stupid bitch or tell to your friends and family to go fuck themselves and I would never leave you...no matter how mad I get. I would never flake on you just because. My life is an open book; I've made mistakes that I've learned from, and I would never hide anything from you that you need to know.

Me: I can be kind of morbid.

Prince: me too! I call it being "realistic" and recognizing that life totally blows sometimes.

Me: wow.

Prince: oh and I think you are pretty.

Me: totes.

Prince: let's go on a picnic and talk and play--and at the end of the day, I will hold you until you fall asleep. I will be your best friend and you will never again be alone.

....WHY IS THIS SO FRICKIN HARD?!!!!

may recommend.

just something for you to think about since i've been thinking about it too:

"Art"
by Herman Melville

In placid hours well-pleased we dream
Of many a brave unbodied scheme.
But form to lend, pulsed life create,
What unlike things must meet and mate:
A flame to melt--a wind to freeze;
Sad patience--joyous energies;
Humility-yet pride and scorn;
Instinct and study; love and hate;
Audacity--reverence. These must mate,
And fuse with Jacob's mystic heart
To wrestle with the angel--Art.

-1891

may never go hungry.

this morning, i met amy for coffee at starbucks and chatted (i mean this in the "old school" sense of the word where we actually met face-to-face and heard each other speak actual sentences) for an hour and half--typical, really-- and then we checked out the harvest market on the corner of franklin and cole. amy and i had both seen the new fresh produce stand recently, and it is operated by calvary chapel boise where amy attends multiple weekly services. she heard that the market's prices were comparable to local grocery stores, so we figured it was worth a saturday morning perusal.

it's a rainy and cold day in boise, but fortunately the produce stand is protected with a heavy-duty canvas cover. inside, the market offers organic produce, fresh herbs, the usual fruits and vegetables like peppers and honey tangerines, and even dried beans. i only spent a few dollars today on green onions, strawberries, and one jonagold apple-- but amy was much more adventurous and purchased a cantaloupe and some red potatoes and pears too. i'm looking forward to sifting through recipes and shopping at the market. located just across the road (albeit: major road...) from my apartment complex, the market should be a convenient and yummy place to shop this summer-- much like my beloved m & w market on warm springs when i lived in n-e boise that supplied granny smith apples and swiss cheese for "crash diet aug 2008" in preparation for LA and vegas.

in addition to eating healthy, i feel good about supporting calvary chapel boise. i still feel guilty for buying a potato masher from their new again thrift store for 10 cents. 10 cents! they should have at least charged me a quarter...

check it out if you get a chance. and let me know-- i'll meet you there. they have mountain dew in the fridge...

may be clever like a fox.

have you heard?

"transformers 3" will be fox-less. how will they ever find another hot brunette to purse her lips, zip up a leather jacket, wear fake eyelashes in the middle of a frickin' desert, and crawl all over shia?

oh no, megan!

i have no idea how they will find someone else to work with michael bay-- since he " 'wants to be like Hitler on his sets'" and is " 'hopelessly awkward'"-- and find a "suitable replacement" for a girl who starred opposite lindsay lohan in "confessions of a teenage drama queen" in her only film prior to transformers. let's hope the "'quieter films'" you dream of don't land you back on "hope & faith." oh wait, that TV show was canceled.
at the end of the day, megan, you're still hot. i wish you the best of luck.
...and really really really hope bay chooses olivia wilde next!

may be narcissistic

today marks 20 days of blogging. i hope you've been entertained and encouraged to think-- maybe you've even learned something about me. today i woke up and was immediately bored. like, i hadn't even eaten breakfast yet (i ate eggs benedict, in case you were wondering). i don't think i'm a boring person, but you never know. what do you think?

1. i type most of these blog entries at the boise public library branch at ustick/cole because i steal internet at my apartment and coverage has been spotty lately. yes, i was researching "britney spears hot" google images in public.

2. recently, i've really enjoyed watching "the mentalist" and "the dollhouse."

3. escalators scare me for very silly reasons; i'm afraid my foot will get wedged between the steps and paramedics will ampute my leg; for this reason, i hesitate every time i get on an escalator.

4. spiders make me cry.

5. i crave french fries almost every day of my life.

6. today, this is what i look like:
7. i read the twilight series under the guise that i wanted to see what the attraction was and because stephanie meyer has an english degree from BYU-- i was interested on the grounds that she had most likely studied great literature and writing and would probably incorporate themes and other writerly tricks; i was sorely disappointed. bella does next to nothing, and meyer suffers from adjective overload. and i was totally team jacob...

8. on saturday, the hair stylist told me that i should never ever cut my hair in an a-line bob. i'm kind of disappointed, even though i think long hair suits me.

9. sometimes i bring two pairs of shoes to an event: heels and flats. i'll decide on which pair to wear when i arrive.

10. who is justin bieber? i just don't get it.

11. instead of daydreaming like other people do, i think of words and imagine what phrases would look like in different fonts.

12. i would love to see linkin park in concert-- the energy alone would be awesome. hearing "points of authority" live would pretty much complete my inner high school emo kid.

13. recently, i learned that i am genetically prone to forming keloids, which explains why my childhood chicken pox scars are still around. i had a pimple on my chest, and it didn't go away for 2 years-- turns out it's a keloid scar and the dermatologist pumped it full of 'roids to make it go away. riveting, isn't it?

14. despite my silent new years resolution to text less and talk more, i send and receive roughly 5000 texts per month.

15. i would wear a dress or skirt every day of my life if i could.

16. i don't want to have children-- and not because i don't like them... but because i like them too much. i really believe that the world is a bad place where bad things happen-- so who am i to birth someone that didn't ask to be born and make them endure this life too? i suppose if you're not a closet optimist like me, then you don't agree with me. and that's fine. really. i hope your children are the ones who make people like me into true believers in the goodness of humankind.

17. boys in argyle are sooooo cute. although, a recent trip to urban outfitters confirmed that any boy walking around dressed like this is surely going to catch my eye.

18. i like boise, but i know i won't be here forever. where will i be when i grow up... what will i call home...

19. speaking of growing up, pretty sure i'll own a beagle or basenji (they cannot bark!) when i have the place, time, and money.

20. i'm not shy, really. most of the time, i just don't care. but today, i do. tell me about yourself.

may give up.

why i hate people

scenario one

fat lady says, "oh, i'm sorry. i never stand in line. i'm so bad at it."

really, you are bad at standing in line? you don't say anything or do anything other than stand. in. line. please tell me you didn't drive here.


scenario two

kid: mom, can we get these [yogurts on sale]? 50 cents.
mom: we can't afford it.

really, you're holding a grande starbucks drink and you have a manicure, you selfish b.


scenario three

the book called virgin sex staring at me from the library bookshelf in the teen section.

really, taking it up the butt is, like, so pure.


to be continued, guaranteed...

may shimmer.

their definition:

1. the season between spring and autumn, in the Northern Hemisphere from the summer solstice to the autumnal equinox, and in the Southern Hemisphere from the winter solstice to the vernal equinox.
2. the period comprising the months of June, July, and August in the U.S., and from the middle of May to the middle of August in Great Britain.
3. a period of hot, usually sunny weather
4. the hotter half of the year (opposed to winter)

5. the period of finest development, perfection, or beauty previous to any decline
6. a whole year as represented by this season

my definition:

mccall, idaho

watermelon

flipflops

sleeping in


really bad club music


really yummy fruity drinks

sunrise instead of sunset

share it with me.

may free fall.

dear monkeybutt,

this is the first letter i've written to you in over 9 years. but i think about you almost every day. at first, i fought memories of you back into the submisson of my subconscious; only recently have i been able to think of you and a new feeling has emerged-- i miss you. i still can't smell cake batter or listen to tom petty without thinking of you. i wish (sometimes so badly it stings my eyes and the hard bubble in my throat throbs) you were here to experience life too.

i know you hate(d) me. i know things ended badly between us. but there are so many things i want to share with you. i would tell you how much i love french fries; i would take you to my new best friend's chinese food restaurant where we'd pig out on pot stickers and laugh because they are called "pot" stickers and regret putting our minds and bodies through such misery to weigh 75 pounds. i would tell you that x was not as good as it gets; i wish you would have felt a real man's love. i would tell you that meeting people you talk to online is actually encouraged now. i would tell you about the music you've missed; i think you would have liked emo music and taylor swift (she's so cute!). maybe if i could share this life that i've come to tolerate i could somehow make up for the guilt i've felt (always have and always will) that you're dead.

i know why you did it. but i wish you would have just given people and life a chance-- maybe they wouldn't have disappointed you as badly as you thought. we are not 15 anymore. we can wear whatever clothes we want, we can live in our own spaces, we can date any boy (bad or good) and we can text them without our parents knowing, and we can buy our own horses and make-up. life is so different now than it was then-- for me, anyway. i mean, it's not ALL grand and happy bubbles. yes, i still have dark fantasies about spilling all that's hateful and worthless inside me into a tub of warm bathwater, soaking in a pool of blood red, and slowly slipping into a new life that is not this one-- in hopes that whatever finds me is better than now.

but what if life on the other side is just like this one-- only a little bit worse? i don't know. but you know. and tell me, was it worth it? do you have gummy worms where you are? do you have summer picnics? do you have netflix? do you have boys who will stay up all night with you and play adult mad libs and drink pineapple rum and tell you they love you in the morning? do you have life where you are?

in 9 years, i still haven't changed my mind.

i choose life.

i just wish you had too.

late,
duckfluff

may renew.

new:bathroom scentsy warmer smelling of havana cabana, just in time for summer.

new:
curtains, sewn by my mom and me.


new:accent pillows for my couch, also sewn by my mom and me.


new:butt pillows to allow more seating room in my apt. (hey, you can see my old raised dot daisy warmer in the background...)


new:"pistol whipped" polyster print lithograph by james calentino for my wall.

new:renewed dedication to making this place my own. some things, however, are not worth ousting just yet--fridge art stays.

new:bedroom scentsy warmer in my new accent color, turquoise.

may commence.

happy graduation day to all BSU grads! congrats on your newly bestowed diplomas and transition into the next phase of your life as alumni.

3 short (?) years ago, i graduated with my bachelor's degree from boise state. i honestly do not remember much about graduation, since i've attended several commencement ceremonies in the taco bell arena (including my brother's and my own high school graduation, my spring 07 graduation, spring 08 graduation, and my master's fall 2008 graduation), and they've all muddled together into one big compost pile. however, there are some key memories that stand out:

- i was nominated and then selected as one of four marshalls for the college of arts & sciences, and my job was to lead all graduates from CAS into the arena and later towards the diploma reception line. i'm not sure what i did to deserve such a title, but i was able to tell my friends and family EXACTLY where i was sitting ahead of time.

- the student speaker annoyed me. she preached about the importance of dedication and how lucky we were to have a college education. she was just graduating herself-- why was she qualified to tell me about dedication? about the value of a degree? tell me about what you know, not what a hallmark card told you.

- boise state's president bob kustra is a wonderful speaker, on the other hand. i was pleasantly surprised and impressed.

- the shoes i wore rubbed two horrible blisters on the second toe of each foot.

- my mom's sister and my dad's stepdad attended my graduation, along with brett and his mom. i was very thankful for their support.

- my parents threw me a backyard BBQ party to celebrate. my friends and neighbors came, and we had lots of leftovers.

and then there are a whole bunch of bad feelings. like, i worked hard, studied hard, read hard, wrote hard, and complained hard about my 4 years as an english major-- only to graduate with a double-emphasis in literature and writing. both emphases celebrated (and denounced) different aspects of the discipline that thoroughly frustrated me. for instance, writing profs generally scoffed at the literary canon and focused mainly on contemporary texts with living authors--whereas literature profs mostly emphasized classical works as the source of worthy study. oh, and then i worked 30+ hours a week throughout my undergraduate years, actively enrolled in and attended honors college courses, and served as an ambassador, research intern, and student representative at local college faires. oh, and i pulled almost-straight A's (except for a B in an honors colloquium class on t.s. eliot and f.h. bradley) during my last 3 years. another feeling of malcontent was the general lack of respect towards a liberal arts type of degree. my friends would tell people, "oh, i'm just an accounting major..." and they'd received the congratulatory, "that's wonderful!" versus "interesting.what do you do with an english major?" oh, you know, just responsibility, accountability, problem-solving, attention to detail, creativity, effective communication, research processes, ethics, and general knowledge about things no one else cares about. not important stuff, apparently.

to me though, college was not a joke. i took my coursework and extracurricular activities seriously. i realized that most of my college education would not directly apply to the workplace or in my daily duties. nonetheless, i enjoyed soaking up knowledge from a 3 hour night class about linguistic properties of agency, and i have never felt more accomplished than after i would read a chapter in moby-dick and confidently assert my interpretation of the text (and sometimes after consulting secondary criticism and recognized sources)-- or after reading my poetry in front of a small crowd at the cabin as my senior project. therefore, i am very proud of my classmates who have earned their degrees and will go on to do great things with the skills and knowledge their education has procured and supplied.

i am a firm believer that knowledge is power. being called a "know-it-all" is a positive moniker. learning doesn't stop after the last final exam is taken; we should continue to investigate, question, test, and share our knowledge daily.

may find me.

i have so much to write but no time right now. it's the middle of may, and this time of month brings back many, many memories.

a freckled blonde girl.

summerly anticipation.

graduation anxiety.

i promise, i will explain later. enjoy your day.

may hit me one more time.

subtitle: in defense of brit brit.

i am not ashamed to admit that i like britney spears. in fact, i will even stand up for her. i've never met the girl, but i don't think she deserves as much crap as she's given. sure, her music is a little processed (but she listens to radiohead). and yes, she almost dropped her kid on the ground (but who hasn't?). oh, and there was the whole marrying a giant LOSER deal (but we all have skeletons in our closet).

britney stole my heart back in 1999 when she released "...baby one more time." she danced around in a little schoolgirl outfit and moped on the bleachers. i think i first really fell for her after watching a video of brit at dance practice for "hit me"s video. she was wearing a white sports bra and her hair flipped thisway and thatway-- i mean, most high school students (she was only 18 when her first album was released) couldn't manage a homework assignment, much less multiple dance routines, lyrics, and a skin-tight-tight-wardrobe-approved body. even if her music was less than stellar according to music enthusiasts (read: snobs), ...baby one more time has sold over 14 million records in the US alone. maybe the schoolgirl outfit was just too genuis.

her second album, oops!...i did it again was also very successful-- and i was pleased to hear that britney had grown up a little. she emerged in a full-body red latex suit in her video "oops! i did it again" and mocked titanic and all the sudden, brit brit was hawt.
she was everywhere. the tabloids. magazine covers. with justin timberlake. amidst rumors she wasn't a virgin. OMG she pierced her belly button. umm the vegas wedding to childhood sweetheart. and a whole bunch of other stuff. and then.
kevin federline. back up dancer. 2004. engaged after 3 months. his ex was 8 months preggo. but whatevs. it was love. married 10/6/2004.

and then they had 2 kids. and she got, like, so fat. and then they divorced in november 2006. and then, you know. she went "crazy"-- attacking paparazzi with an umbrella and shaving her head and having breakdowns and whatnot. yah, this happened:

but, come on. she married the supposed love of her life without a pre-nup, and they broke up (reportedly) over text messaging. the media constantly photographed her looking terrible (read: chunky and worn out). she started partying with paris and flashing the media (accidentally of course). there were rumors of a sex tape. she was denounced "bipolar." and her comeback failed. even though, seriously, she looks a hell of a lot better than most girls out there who manage to have boyfriends and stuff.


but, come on. failed relationships suck. failed career moves suck. failed parenting sucks.

imagine the world laughing at you. imagine the world reading about your mistakes through the sarcastic, bitter tone of people like perez hilton. imagine your parents admitting that you're a disappointment. imagine being constantly compared to who you used to be, years and years ago. have you ever had a bad haircut? have you ever driven without a seatbelt? have you ever made some bad drinking choices?

have you released 6 albums and 4 eps? have you starred on a hit TV show playing a hot secretary? have you posed for rolling stone's COVER 7 times? have you created and sold a perfume line? have you walked across your own star on the hollywood walk of fame? have you ever looked like this good in leather pants and wig:
have you been the most searched person for the year on google and set guinness world records? have you made out with madonna? have you ever performed for a superbowl half-time show? have you toured the world 5 times sharing your life's work with millions of people that relate to you, that understand what you've been through, that can only imagine how much you've sacrificed to have what you have, that really could never grasp how absolutely awesome it is to be you?
naw, that's britney, bitch.

may forget you.

a non-maleable we.

not meant to be.

anomaly.

may put a smile on your face.

bad moods possess me more often than not. i used to deal better with stupid people, but since they seem to be multiplying in grander numbers than my ignorance can keep up with, here i am: disgruntled, annoyed, and about ready to wave my white flag. they show up at work, they drive along side me, they make my food, they send me messages on myspace... i can't fight it anymore; i have to give in. congrats, stupid people-- you have my tax money, my forced politeness, and now a place in my blog. go buy some lobster tails with your food stamps.

but perhaps the universe compensates for the largely mindless and inept masses with music. it's not even good music, but the combo of lyrics and beat and whatever almost guarantee a better mood. for instance:

"happy together"-- the turtles

i know it is a cheesy song, but it kind of makes me tilt my head back and forth and want to dance with someone i love.

"today was a fairytale"-- taylor swift

when i listen to most t-swizzle songs, i dance around my kitchen. but how awesome is the feeling when you first fall in love-- you can't stop smiling, you can't get enough of that person, you feel like cinderella has nothing on you.

"UR so gay"-- katy perry

there's a guilty sort of happiness associated with this song. it's vindictive in a p!nk-esque manner but in a prettier outfit.

"feeling this"-- blink 182

this song reminds me of summer. and it reminds me of one of the best nights of my life, hearing and seeing blink 182 on stage in san diego with miss karley dee. i grew up listening to blink 182, so being so close to mark, tom, and travis was one of those out-of-body experiences for me. they weren't just people dancing around on a computer screen; they were speaking the very words that i put on repeat over and over to get me through a break up or during a steamy summer make out session.

"pieces of me"--ashlee simpson

i love my ashlee-- her music is so catchy and processed, and i love it. anna forced me to sing this on xbox karakoe revolution... it's true. in the song, ashlee expresses her own comfortability with her flaws and isn't it awesome to think that someone out there could fully accept and cherish those very things that make her unique? way to go, wentz! but seriously. i find myself singing into a fake mic everytime i hear this song.
youtube won't let me post the official videos for these songs-- but i think you've got the idea. what are some of your favorites?

may take my picture.

when i was in junior high and high school, one of my favorite days of the school year was in may: yearbook day. i'd prepare for this day-- i would buy a special yearbook-signing pen, i would usually pick out a wise quotation to write in people's yearbooks (i.e. "remember to see the flower in the weeds," "those who stand for nothing fall for anything," etc.), and i would practice my signature and determine which AIM screenname i wanted to share with others. i mostly looked forward to yearbook day because i loved seeing the past year captured in candid photos-- i liked learning about events i didn't go to and reading random interviews with people i admired-- and in the posed headshots where i could giggle over pictures of my crush or find a small bit of satisfaction that super-cute x looks terrible in her school photo.

mind you, this was waaaaay before facebook or myspace. i couldn't browse through profile pictures or mobile uplaods. there was only a yearbook photo, tiny and in black-and-white. i couldn't click on "albums" and see y's volleyball championship pictures and team photos. i couldn't write on someone's wall and leave a "hey! call me!" comment; i waited with giddy excitement to read what z wrote in my yearbook-- did he think i'm a "cool chick" and "super smart" and would we "hang out this summer"? i couldn't send xyz a friend request and hope that a tenuous connection would be established and maintained through face/space; i anxiously approached other kids and asked them to sign my yearbook and hoped their message to me would be just as nice as mine to them.

my friends and i would reserve pages so we could write heartfelt messages to each other. "SAVE FOR ANDREA" would be scrawled across the top of a page, and i'd ponder how i could possibly encapsulate the meaning of high school friendship on a glossy yearbook page... but i did. back then, my friends and i didn't spend hours texting back and forth; we would sum up our friendship and love for each other in lengthy yearbook signings. these messages are far more permanent and meaningful than the thousands of texts and dozens of one-line myspace comments.

i wonder if the current generation of high school students appreciates looking through their yearbooks as much as i did. i wonder if they will someday laugh at the hairstyles and clothing worn in their youth in photos that their entire class can peruse through at any moment. i wonder if the club pages, faculty photos, and indexes create a swarm of butterflies in their stomachs when someone hands them a hardbound book with the academic year printed on the front. i wonder if yearbooks will be phased out and replaced with social technology lifebooks. tonight, i'll look at my yearbooks with a little more appreciation and nostalgia.

may disappear.

i read a poem during my angsty teen years in high school; i've since forgotten the title, author, or context of said poem. i do, however, remember the message, paraphrased here:

sometimes i wish you were dead.
at least then, you'd have a reason not to call.

that's all i have for you tonight-- someone else's words. my heart is heavy, and i miss someone, which is one of the worst feelings in the world. i don't know why people say they'll be there, they'll be your friend, they've got your back, etc. and then they're not.

i suppose i'm still searching for the "no matter what" clause.

may come into me.

tonight, we threw a surprise birthday party for my friend amy. it's her big 3-0, a shiny new decade. we had good food (lots! including the amazing jalapeno ranch dressing!) and music (mixed by moi... and i didn't even include a brit brit song) and company. starr made six--yes, SIX--cakes decorated with icing and flowers. i hope amy was surprised! she has been such a good friend for (a little) over 5 years now, and we have both seen each other through some pretty trying times along with the good laughs.

at some point tonight, i found myself so enjoying the company of others. i wish i had moments like that more often when i can remove whatever is dark inside me in order to be present in the company of others and just smile. life is not all bad. people are not all bad. i can be happy.

may pick me up.

i'm in a terrible mood with a pounding headache. i'm just not feeling the whole blogging thing today. sorry, folks. but here's something that made me laugh:

may play.

one section of my mental vault contains words, lines, characters, scenes, and general themes that still need a place in my writing. i find them too interesting (read: "will get me published...maybe") to just plop into any school assignment poem or journal rant. they deserve to be showcased properly, and i don't want to waste them.

BIG problem: i'm a terrible writer and don't write. my mental vault fills more quickly than it empties. so i have things like a boy named macaroni and a girl named muffin just loafing around next to windchimes (how do you satisfyingly encapsulate the empty sound of wooden windchimes using words? please. enlighten me.) and liquoring up grapey the caterpillar with moonshine and deep-fried dandelions. grapey was one of my imaginary friends growing up (i had a few... i wonder if this contributes at all to my adult neurotics?) and he was always out on great adventures. maybe someday when i stop watching "how i met your mother" and "true blood," i will release grapey from my 3 year old brain and give him his own proper literary introduction.

i'm not protective of my writing ideas. obviously-- this blog is public. if someone else can do it better, then i'm glad i could be the freewrite prompt for your novel. even though i consider writing an integral part of my identity, i also think i'm extremely lazy, a sad excuse for an english major, and that my grandest accomplishments stem from forced assignments and sarcastic humor. on a somewhat unrelated note, i'm day 6 into my blogging mission and--almost hourly--i jot down a future blog post topic. let's hope my mental vault comes with free storage on the side.

may the force be with you.

i was reminded of this scene from "dumb and dumber" today-- actually, many days lately:

in the terminal, lloyd runs full speed toward the plane holding mary's suitcase.
airline person removes the flight sign that reads "171 aspen"
lloyd: HOLD THAT PLANE!
airline person: sir, you cannot go in there.
lloyd: it's ok, i'm a limo driver [while flashing his badge]
camera moves left. there is no plane attached to the jetway. lloyd tumbles out of the end of the tunnel onto the tarmac.
lloyd: ehhhhhhh.

we all wish were were somebody. some of us are somebody's. but acting like you're somebody when you're really nobody is just pathetic. for example:

winco checker: ma'am, i need to see your ID.
girl: well i don't have it.
checker: [holding 6 pack of beer] we card for 35 and younger.
girl: DO YOU CARD FOR 35 OR 21?
checker: i need to see your ID.
girl: well ALBERTSON'S never asks for my ID.
checker: ok....

like, congrats, albertson's knows who you are. you're recognized... at... albertson's.

another example:

all gussied up lady: i need this filled. [hands over a prescription for an inhaler]
rx tech: your doctor wrote "as directed" for the instructions, so we will need to contact her for the specifics.
lady: why?
tech: for insurance purposes, mostly. they like more specific instructions for billing.
lady: oh, it's ok. i'm the drug rep.
tech: yah... we're still going to need to call the doctor.
lady: but i'm the drug rep for that drug.
tech: yah.... we're still going to need to call the doctor.

i mean, saweet you get free drugs and hand out shiny brochures and get paid to suck up to people. i had NO idea drug reps were above the laws of insurance billing...

oh, just go fall out of a plane already, dumbass.

may bring me the sunset in a cup.

one of the saddest things i've ever heard was a line from woody allen's "vicky cristina barcelona." the sultry, adventurous friend cristina shares her inability to translate her feelings into something external: "it's sad, really, because i feel like i have a lot to express and i am not gifted." even though cristina is a filmmaker and a wonderful photographer, she considers herself a failure. whatever it is that she wants to share, she cannot.

i find this so tragic. how does it feel to lack the ability to express oneself? stifling? restrictive? unfair?

for me, i have my writing. but there are some things that simply cannot be compressed into graphite seraphs.

for me, i have my drawing. but there are some things that defy the boundaries of line and color.

for me, i have my music. but there are some things that are somewhere between a major and minor chord, that exist as their own beat, and cannot be found in a melody.

for me, i have small talents that allow me to share at least a part of what moves inside me, what places my fingers to keyboard, what wakes me before the sun and begs to be recorded on blank journal pages--

for me, i do not know what it feels like to lack the ability to express. for those who cannot, i ache for you truly.

may come back.

they say if you love something,

set it free.

it will come back to you

if it's meant to be.

hurry home, sunnies. i miss you terribly.

may or may not be closer than they appear.

why do we dream at night? i know, i know, psychologists and other brain doctors will tell us that REM cycles include such fantastical explorations and exaggerations of reality to help stabilize our emotional and mental state. some theorize that dreams are a way of weaving our experiences into memory. i'm not content with either of these explanations though, because both suggest that we are unstable and perhaps require a split mind to solve these incongruencies-- one part of our brain is like "whooooooooaaaaa, help me out" and the other part takes over when we are not conscious (freaky!) and methodically rewires our thoughts at a very vulnerable hour.

my dreams are mostly unhelpful. for example, i dreamed that my mom was trying to drown me in a bathtub as a child. because i was small and the bathtub was unusually large, i was able to swim down to the drain and hide from her claw-like hands and super-human strength. the other night, i dreamed that i was feeding ostriches on a bird farm and they smelled like dry dirt and california valley heat. and, as always, i have the recurring dream that my dead friend's ex-boyfriend asks me to meet him in a deli, buys me a turkey sandwich, and tells me over and over that he is not my lighthouse. if my brain is actually sorting out my life events into some permanent memory, then my brain is sorely failing-- i am left with confusion and great disgust.

are your dreams productive? do they reveal new ideas or theories you may not have discovered in your waking hours?

in a blog post entitled "why do we dream?" from psychology daily, dr. ilana simons quotes freud's theory that dreams are poems we tell ourselves. she writes: "dreams allow us to be what we cannot be, and to say what we cannot say, in our more repressed daily lives" (par. 2). while i love the notion that i am artistically representing my experiences as metaphorical situations even in my sleep, i still find the idea of the split mind unsettling. why can't i confront my issues while i am awake? why must my brain handle it solo when i'm unaware?

what have you been dreaming about lately?

may do us part.

while my mom and i were sewing my new couch throw pillows yesterday, we bonded a little over TLC's "say yes to the dress." the show follows brides of all ages, backgrounds, and brattiness on their quest to find the perfect wedding dress at swanky new york shop, kleinfeld's. the consultants try their best to learn the bride-to-be's tastes and styles while combatting opinionated family members and low budgets. in all, a delicate balance of mindless and entertaining while feeding fabric under a swiftly moving needle.

now, if you know me well, you know that i don't want a traditional wedding. (marriage, yes.) but, whether i seal the fate of forever in a courthouse or vegas chapel, i WILL have a dress. what kind of dress? considering that i have yet to find a groom (or a frickin' BF for that matter...), i know it's way premature to occupy my thoughts with visions of rouging, beading, white or ivory. as the girls tried on cupcake-like ball gowns with laced-up bodices and strapless straight dresses with drop waists, i reflected on what i might someday wear to my wedding.

maybe something short and sexy?

by BCBG

maybe something romantic and flowy?

by j. crew

maybe something not quite white?

by vera wang

of course, "timeless" describes most brides' overall approach to their wedding. not me. maybe something more along the lines of fun. pretty. memorable. just right.

**welcome to 31 days of blogging. day one over. for me anyway. feel free to leave comments-- i've enabled the anonymous comment feature in case you don't have a google account. be warned that i do approve all comments before they are posted. sneaky, huh. see you tomorrow, readers.