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.